Love in Dreams
by Thessilian
Summary: Alistair & Cousland pairing. What would happen to the Warden's if they realised that they shared the Fade? Would it help them in their quest to defeat the archdemon or would it ruin their chance to survive?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Come on, My lady." Duncan pulls on my arm, tugging me under a low slung arch. "Not much further."

Struggling to keep my eyes open, I allow myself to be towed inside the ruined Chanty building. We'd barely been on the move for one night and I'm already exhausted. Duncan let go of my upper arm, his thick dark brows pulling together as I sink bonelessly to the floor.

"I'm afraid, due to the manner of our departure, I have no bedroll or blankets. Perhaps my cloak will suffice?"

My chattering teeth make it impossible for me to argue, and I curl up beneath his warm cloak, afraid to close my eyes. I can still hear my Mothers battle cry echoing down the servants exit tunnels as I left her and my Father to die. My Mabari, Loki, snuggles up by my feet, his face snuffling my hands, his eyes sad. I stroke his fur, softer than it looks, feeling hollow inside.

Duncan leaves me alone, busying himself with building a small fire. He sits opposite me, back straight, eyes distant and seems to sleep with one eye open. Dawn comes sooner than I could hope. I haven't slept a wink, but I manage to talk myself into behaving like a Cousland. My parents hadn't sacrificed themselves for me to lie about crying and moaning like a pathetic girl. I had a promise to keep, to help the Grey Wardens and to find my brother Fergus.

I sit up slowly, trying not to wake Duncan and grab my water bottle for a sip.

"Will you be alright to travel after no sleep, my lady?" Duncan's smooth voice makes me jump, snorting water into my lungs.

"Please, Duncan." I say between coughs. "Call me Thessaly. I understand there are no surnames or titles in the Wardens."

He nods once. "I shall. But you did not answer my question."

I sigh, lowering the water bottle. Too perceptive by half. "I am tired, it's true. But I am fine to walk. I believe you said that it is over three more days journey to Ost... Ostagar was it? We do not have time to wait."

Duncan doesn't reply, his dark eyes taking in my face. I'm guessing he doesn't like what he sees.

"Too long to walk. I thought perhaps you could rest here while I found us some horses, perhaps a cart..."

I pass him his cloak that I'd used as a makeshift blanket and stand, stretching out the kinks after sleeping on the hard floor. "Or, you know, we could go together and find transport? Faster?"

I am treated to one of his rare smiles as he stands, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. "Your father did warn me you were as stubborn as your Mabari."

My smile froze at the thought of my Father, my mouth answering without my brain being aware. "That indeed is true, I however, smell slightly better. Usually."

I manage to force my sleep deprived limbs into a shambling march, five paces behind Duncan as he strides gracefully ahead. When I first met him, I'd thought him a warrior of old, shining heavy armour and a greatsword to smite his enemies. Possibly a griffon, too, but I'd never admit that out loud. But on a second glance, I'd noticed his deft hands, his twin blades and his graceful movements. He humbled me, my own inept stumbling about in splintmail with the family longsword is a million miles from his skill. Perhaps that will change, with the joining. I thought.

He is used to dealing with people, negotiating the sale of two nags for barely the price of one. From the poor farmers face, though, I guessed it had been some time since he'd held cash money. My jaw tightened at how some estates were run. Not everyone looked after their people the way my father did. Had.

Riding behind Duncan allows me to slip into mourning once more. I think of how I'd left them, my parents, lying together in a spreading pool of blood, knowing that their every hope is pinned on me. Loki occasionally looks up and whines, keeping a steady pace at my heel.

Once again, Duncan seemed to read my mind, slowing his horse to tell me stories of the Wardens. Tales of men long dead before either of us were born, of the first blight, of the founding of the first grey Wardens at Weisshaupt Fortress in the Anderfels.

His talk of Griffons soon broke my melancholy and I question him endlessly, barely noticing the hours and miles sliding by.

Finally, the tall ruined towers of Ostagar loomed on the horizon and I realise that I, Thessaly Cousland, nineteen, hardly ever left Highever, is going to have to make a group of battle toughened men think I am worthy to join them. Great.

"Why did you offer me this honour, Duncan?" My voice sounds soft and I clear my throat. "Ser Gilmore I could understand, he had been to many tournaments and won a host of pennants, but I..."

"Being a Grey Warden isn't about being the best warrior, the strongest man, the fiercest fighter. It is about nobility of spirit, a strength of purpose. A willingness to sacrifice. You, my lady... Thessaly, have the soul of a Grey Warden."

I bow my head, eyes once more hot, but this time they burn with a foolish pride and unexpected happiness. "Thank you, Ser." I mutter, unable to look up as our horses trot through the narrow pass in the hills towards to fortress.

We dismount, a skinny elven boy taking the horses from us. I thank him, disturbed by the way he flinched at my voice.

"King Cailan," I hear Duncan's voice from my side and turn as a tall man in gleaming golden armour reaches out a hand. "I didn't expect a..."

"A royal welcome?" The King beamed, his youthful face looking similar to my own age. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun."

I notice Duncan sigh silently. I'd overheard many tales of the king, a spoiled brat, an idealistic fool, but when he'd visited Highever, he had seemed kind hearted. Not really someone I could see Duncan enjoying an ale with, mind.

"Not if I could help it, Your Majesty." Duncan nods.

Cailan punches Duncan playfully, before raising his eyes to the sky. "Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious."

After a moment, he turns to face me. "The other Wardens told me you'd found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?"

"Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty..."

Cailan interrupted him. "No need, Duncan. You are Bryce's youngest, are you not? I think we met at Highever once or twice."

My fathers name remind me to update the King. "Yes I am, and I bring important news, Sire."

"Is it about your father? Your brother has been concerned about him." Cailan smiles at me, and I feel the tears ready to burst.

"He's not coming. he died when our castle was taken." I blurt out, my eyes filling up.

I feel Duncan's gloved hand on my shoulder and sag back a little as Duncan took over for me.

"Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, Your Majesty. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished."

The King turns away, his lips pursed as he thinks. "As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice. You have my word."

I nod, mumbling out. "Thank you, Your Majesty"

"No doubt you wish to see your brother. Unfortunately he and his men are scouting in the wilds." The King looks at my red eyes then flickers his gaze to Duncan.

"I am not eager to tell him, Your Majesty." I kept my gaze on the floor.

"I apologise, but there is nothing more I can do. All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being." The King waved his hand at his guards, the audience almost over. "I am sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies."

Duncan passed on another message. "Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."

Cailan laughs over his shoulder as he turns away. "Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've already won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different."

"I didn't realize things were going so well," I say to his back.

"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight," the King sighs, turning back to face us once more. "There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas… we've seen no sign of an archdemon."

I could hear the slight humour in Duncan's dry response. "Disappointed, Your Majesty?"

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales… You know, a King riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god. But I suppose this will have to do. Now I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

We both bow from the waist as the King walks away, his guards following closely. As we walk towards the bustling campsite, Duncan explained about the impatience of the army. The lack of an Archdemon is making them take unnecessary risks.

"Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. To that end, we should proceed with the joining ritual without delay."

"A hot meal might be nice, first." I sigh, looking at my grubby hands.

Duncan smiles at me, his tanned skin crinkling around the eyes. "I agree, we have until nightfall to perform the ritual, so please go rest and clean up. It is brief, but some preparation is required." He sighed again. "I wanted to introduce you to Alistair, but I understand he's out patrolling. I'll take your Mabari to the kennels with me. Later, when we are ready, I will call you to the ritual."

I nod, watching his back as he strode away, Loki following at his heel with nary a glance in my direction. I wandered through the camp, talking to everyone, friendly guards, scary templars, even the odd Chantry sister healing the wounded. The worst part is seeing a dead darkspawn lying off to one side, soldiers examining it with disgust. The corrupted creature smelled of death and decay, it's flesh hanging off in grey clumps.

Eventually, pure exhaustion catches up with me and I collapse against a pillar next to a huge fire. My head drops forward onto my chest and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. A hand shook me awake, it felt like seconds later, but the sky is a deep, dark blue. A few stars peeked out from behind the clouds.

"Thessaly? Please come with me." Duncan holds out a hand, pulling me to my feet. I stumbled alongside him, half listening as he explained that he had wanted to perform the ritual with the two other recruits, but that their guide Alistair had them still patrolling the wilds and they weren't due back until past midnight. I nod in all the right places, but my head is still not quite awake.

Eventually, Duncan stops and turns to face me. Any of the kindness I had seen in his eyes had evaporated, the firelight showing only a dark shadow.

"We Grey Wardens bear a sacred burden. For an age, we have protected the lands of men. But now, a blight is upon us and we dare not falter. Regardless of race, gender, noble or commoner. The best must take up our banner to save us all from annihilation. We are the Grey Wardens. Join us." He holds out a silver goblet, the liquid sloshing inside thick and dark. Tipping it towards me, I could tell from the smell alone what it is.

"Blood, but why?"

Duncan didn't reply, his only movement a tightening across his jaw. I watch the firelight play across the goblet for a moment, before closing my eyes and taking a huge gulp.

"Maker..." I cough, the world turning faint as my legs gave way. As I lay there, I felt, no, saw, something that looked like a dragon bellowing above a field of darkspawn. The power rolled off it in waves, this is no simple beast, this had the soul of a God. And it is in my head. I could feel it in my bones.

"It is finished. Welcome."

I barely notice Duncan carrying me back towards the main camp. Even half swooned, I notice that he is careful to hold me far from him, no impropriety for Teyrn Couslands daughter. He stops before a small, one man tent next to the raging bonfire and helps me to my unsteady feet.

"This tent is spare. Please, sleep. The joining is very tough on us all."

Numbly, I crouch and stumble inside, managing to take off my splint-mail chest before falling asleep.

A short while later, I heard whispers outside my tent. Duncan is speaking to someone else, a young voice I hadn't heard before.

"It's done, we have gained a new member."

"Aww but I thought we were doing all three together. Who is this one? Where did you find him. I mean, I didn't aim to take so long getting back, but Ser Jory lost his boot, then I... well... took the wrong path back and..."

"Alistair." I could hear the affection in Duncans voice and even in my half-sleep I smile at the thought of this famous Alistair. Duncan obviously held him in high regard. "We can talk tomorrow. You are tired. Sleep, and we can do the ritual for Jory and Daveth then."

"Fine, fine, have it your way. As always. I can meet my new brother tomorrow." I heard the clunk of mail and a throaty chuckle as I drift back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for reading. Again, I've taken liberties with what happened in game, without straying too far from the story. Hopefully the characters still feel real though. And sorry to any Jory lovers out there, I never liked the guy and it shows here!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Unlike the empty darkness of last night, this time the Fade different. There is a humming at the edges of my senses, an itch I almost can't scratch. I find myself standing, naked and unarmed, in the Fade, looking out across a cavern. The floor seemed to move and shift, before I realised I was seeing the darkspawn again. An army marches below me, filling the cavern floor. Their armour rattles, their battle cries roaring and I wonder what I could possibly do to help fight against this.

Shivering, I look up just as a huge black dragon flies overhead, spewing flames as it soared above me. The darkspawn all cheer, the sound echoing up from below.

I step back, horror filling my bones. "What is this..." I murmur, my knees growing weak, just as two strong arms grab me and stop me from falling.

I twist around in the embrace, looking up at a smiling blonde man I'd never seen before. His eyes crinkle at me and his arms tighten, holding me securely.

"Well, I've certainly had some vivid dreams before, but never darkspawn _and_ a fair maiden together." He smiled at me, his face tilting down towards mine. "Interesting."

I can't answer, I'm too busy suffocating. I feel his naked flesh against my own, his muscular torso rubbing delicately across my breasts, his muscled thighs pressing against me. The humming of the darkspawn fades and all my senses tell me of the danger in his soft skin, the tension in his muscles.

"I'm Alistair. You must be, what? A desire demon? A wish? A dream caused by piece of cheese too late last night?"

Ah this is my version of Duncan's friend? I will be so disappointed when I wake. My Alistair had hair a perfect shade of golden brown, his eyes a matching glorious colour. And Maker, _his face_. All sculpted lines and chiselled cheeks. I'm impressed with my imagination.

A properly raised Teyrns daughter like myself had never seen a naked man before, never mind one who looked like this, a God of legend. Of course I have desires, like any girl my age, but beyond overheard servants giggles, I have little experience. But the feel of his chest rubbing against me, his leg carefully between mine, holding me upright, is making it hard to breathe.

I find my eyes dropping from his face to his chest, my hand reaching up to touch above his heart. Strange that in my dream, I can feel it beating. It seems to speed up at my touch.

"Maker's breath." His voice hisses. " Beautiful and tempting. I think you _must_ be a desire demon."

I giggle at the thought of being beautiful, but it is my dream, I allow myself the lie. I press my face against his neck and breathe in deeply. I don't remember being able to smell in dreams before, but this Alistair smelled like wood-smoke and soap and leather. As my nose travels along his neck, I feel his body shiver. His arms pull me closer and I feel a ridge rub against my thigh.

Andraste's flaming sword! Even in my innocence I realise what it is and gasp in surprise, the first sound I've made. It seems that noise is all it takes for him to move, his hands grabbing my face and pulling it towards his own. I can feel the calluses of his fingers rubbing gently on my neck as his lips brush against mine. Those imperfections on this otherwise perfect man made it feel even more real.

'My first kiss. And to some dream man.' I think, my breath rushing out of me, parting my lips. My hands seem to move of their own accord, one wrapping around his waist, the other behind his neck, both pulling him closer and closer, our bodies melting together in the fade.

I had thought of boys before, poor Ser Gilmore for a time, but never had I known that it could feel like _this_. A kind of magic ripples from his lips to mine, roaring down past my tingling breasts and plunging deep into the pit of my stomach, which throbs with a hot intensity. The heat of his thigh, pressing between my legs makes me mewl with delight. I push my hips forward, the delicious tingling taking over my consciousness.

His tongue slips into my mouth and dream or not, I almost swoon. Who knew that someone's tongue would feel like that, taste like that, like honey and silk and chocolate all in one. I pull him closer, demanding that he kiss me more deeply. One hand slips down his stomach, feeling the muscles coiled under the skin, watching as his eyes close with delight as my hand slips ever lower. I pause at the bottom of his stomach, scared and a little awed at my own brazen actions.

With a shudder, he pushes me back a little, a rumbling growl deep in his chest as he does so. He rests his chin on the top of my head and I feel our chests gasping in time with each other, both of us winded with desire. I breathe in his scent, memorising it. I doubt I'd ever had a dream like this again, so I wanted to remember this dream Alistair, his scent, his taste, how his skin felt on my fingertips.

"This is the strangest dream I've ever had." I murmur.

"My lady, you are telling _me_." My Alistair's laugh rumbles through his chest into mine, making me smile at the feeling. "Though I for one am not complaining."

I feel his heart beating just by my ear, but the sound is fading, his grip lessening and suddenly I am alone and cold and lying on a bedroll half-clad in splint-mail in the ruins of Ostagar.

"Um, wow." I breath. "What in Andraste's name was _that_!"

#

I lie back in the tent, listening to the camp slowly wake. At first a few muttered whispers, then the clanging of shields and the barking of Mabari. I crawl out of the tent, shivering a little in my loose shirt. Most of my hair had escaped the braid, so I unravel it, combing it through with my fingers. My stomach grumbles and I headed towards the big fire, surely someone must be cooking something there.

As I approach, I see Duncan standing talking animatedly with another man. With the bright fire behind them, I could only see their outlines.

"Anyway, no, stories of shared dreams are exceptionally rare..." Duncan is saying as I step into the light. "Ah, Thessaly. You're awake, good. Please, let me introduce you to Alistair. Alistair, this is your new sister."

I step forward, squinting slightly at the bright flames, when I feel the world disappear from beneath my feet. By the maker, _the_ Alistair is _my_ Alistair. The same golden brown hair, the same handsome face, this time his eyes are wide open in surprise.

"Ah, well, gosh. _That_ was unexpected. Sister, you say Duncan? Sisterly was not quite how I remember it." I hear him babble, but I can only stare at my own feet, feeling the blush rising up my cheeks. I'm sure I hear him say something about his cheese dream girl and I wish the ground would open up, the Maker strike me down, darkspawn hordes to attack - anything but this.

"Alistair, please. It's not that unusual for a woman to join the Wardens." Duncan admonishes him, unaware of why the conversation has turned.

"Oh Maker, I'm sorry. I'm babbling. I don't know what to say, this isn't something that happens to me every day." I hear Duncan sigh again and look up to see Alistairs cheeks are the same red colour as my own.

"Allow me to introduce myself. Properly this time, with no touching." Alistair flashes me a small smile, his teeth glistening. "I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden."

"Thessaly." I mumble quickly. I can feel Duncans questioning gaze but I ignore him. "Pleasedtomeetyou."

" After last night, at least I know now why we don't recruit more women into the Grey Wardens." Alistair jokes.

"Do you prefer to have dreams like that about _men_?" I retort, trying to claw back some self respect. I expect annoyance or blustering from him, but I see a broad smile spreading across his face again.

"Oh Duncan, I like this one, can we keep _her_? _Pleeeease_." Alistair claps his hands together gleefully, his face lit up.

A laugh bubbles out of me, even despite my red cheeks and I clap a hand over my mouth, trying to cover up the noise.

Duncan rolls his eyes and folds his arms. "I can see that you two will get along very well indeed. Now, focus please, we have two recruits that need to get through their joining tomorrow."

"Of course." Alistair nods, but I could see repressed laughter shaking his chest and I keep giggling.

Duncan ignored us, explaining about the need to gather fresh blood for the new recruit. I hid my shudder well. He also asked Alistair to find some ancient documents. I am a little worried as to why Duncan wanted these treaties if the fighting is a simple as Cailan implied, but Duncan is his usual inscrutable self and let no more slip, however much I pressured.

A Ser Jory and Daveth appeared. Daveth I liked, he actually reminded me of a younger Duncan, all tanned skin and graceful movements, but the pallid Jory irritated me from the first moment he opened his mouth.

I'm standing at the fire as Duncan finished explaining out mission when they arrived, and we were all introduced. Daveth kisses my hand and wiggles his eyebrows at me, but Jory just folds his arms and looks me up and down, his eyes coming to rest on my breasts, which admittedly, were only covered by a light shirt instead of my usual armour.

"Well, I can see _two_ reasons why _she_ got invited." He scowls at me.

Unthinkingly, I spin and kick his legs out from under him, dropping my knee across his throat, pinning him in place.

"I think..." Alistair giggles behind me again. "Point made. Let him up Thess."

I step back and stand up, holding out a hand as a peace offering. Ser Jory ignores it and struggles to his feet, glaring at me.

"Nice." Daveth breathed. "I'm staying behind her."

"I just knew you'd be good with your hands." Alistair grins at me again.

I ignore him and the laughter that erupts from Daveth. I feel my cheeks flaming again as I stride back to my tent. I scoop up my splint-mail and buckle it in place. This is going to be a tough day.

#

I hadn't realised how well I could fight with others until Alistair and I had decimated half of the darkspawn in the Korkari Wilds. He used his shield to break up the groups, I battered them down with my two hander, and we carved through them like butter. If I wasn't fighting for my life, I'd probably just stand there with my mouth open, watching his every move. The way he charges into the large groups, swinging his shield to break their formations. How he leaps into the air, even clad in armour, and kicks them to the ground. I know I have some sword skill, but I feel like a child next to a real warrior.

Even with my lesser skill, Daveth is showing me respect, but I can tell Ser Jory is bitterly jealous of me. Perhaps its the fact that I'm not scared, or maybe it's how Alistair and I barely need to speak, our movements naturally synchronised, I don't know. But I get the feeling it's going to blow up in my face. And eventually it does.

Finding the wounded soldier doesn't help, the corpses of the rest of his squad lying beside him. Ser Jory starts to sweat and panic.

"How do you know we'll be fine?" He asks Alistair. "I'm not a coward but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back."

"I swear I'm more man than you." I mutter to myself, arms crossed.

Jory sneers at me. "_Had_ more men, most likely."

This time, I've not even lifted my hand when Alistair has knocked Jory on his arse, bashing the other man to the ground with his shield. Alistair towers above him, his face an angry red. "Control yourself, Jory." He roars. "Thessaly is a lady and you will treat her as such."

I put a restraining hand on Alistair's arm and tug gently, feeling absurdly touched at his concern. "It's fine, thank you. I don't expect any special treatment."

Alistair doesn't turn his head, his shield still pressing Jory into the ground, "Grey Wardens respect each other, regardless of gender or race or background. Ser Jory, please apologise."

Jory sputters an apology before Alistair lets him stand, but I try not to look at Jory anymore. I'm tired of his resentment, he's the one whining about the danger and the cold and the damp. What kind of Warden does he think he'll make with that attitude?

Alistair walks off a few paces ahead, before stopping. "We're close to the old fortress where the treaties are, but I sense a lot of darkspawn for how tired we are. This spot is defensible. Let's camp here and we can finish off the scrolls in the morning. Jory, Daveth, gather some wood for a fire."

I watch them scurry off and sigh. "He hates me." I grumble.

"I think it's awe actually." Alistair says, sitting on a nearby log and patting it. I walk over and sit down as far from him as possible. He raises one eyebrow but doesn't comment on it.

"Awe?" I pull out my sword to polish, trying not to look at his face now I'm so close to him. I remember how he feels, soft skin with ropes of hard muscle, scratchy stubble, silky hair... Maker! Control your thoughts girl. I scold myself.

"Well, yes, it's not every day we men get to see women who have courage and strength like you do. He's threatened."

I snort and bend over my sword more, cheeks bright red. It's silent for a moment and I swear I can feel the tension rising. Suddenly Alistair speaks again.

"About last night, I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

I stand up quickly, almost dropping my sword as Daveth and Jory bring back half a forest of logs. They start to fuss over it, the damp wood not catching to their sparks. I move to help them, but Alistair touches my arm and indicates he wants a word, so I follow him a few paces, heart sinking.

"We'll split watch. After last night, I think it's safer for us to not... well, enter the fade at the same time while we're out in the wilds." I don't answer, but I'm sure he can see the blush on my face. "Me and Daveth will go first, you and Jory second..."

"But..." I try to argue.

"But nothing, you might not like each other, but he IS married. You've not seen the way Daveth has been looking at you. Like you're the main course for his dinner."

I giggle at the idea. "I don't think so. He's probably just laughing at my fighting techniques."

But for once his eyes remain serious. "Keep your sword with you. Of Darkspawn and men, I'm more worried about the men."

I laugh, secretly touched at his concern. "I'm sure I'll be fine, thank you Ser Knight."

Alistair shrugs. "Trust me, I know about you beautiful desire demons, he'll be tempted, keep that sword handy."

I frown at that, not sure if he is mocking me. "See, that's the real reason I was convinced it was a dream, even with how real it felt. You called me beautiful last night, too."

"Makers breath, you don't know? Doesn't your house have _mirrors_? Hasn't every boy you've ever met swooned at your feet?" He takes a step forward, one hand brushing some loose hairs from my cheek.

I giggle again, mostly from fear, conscious of how close he is standing, my cheek burning where his fingers have brushed it. "Well, there was Ser Gilmore, but he told me I was horrid and that I smelled then he pulled my hair."

Alistair bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling with delight. "Oh Thess, how old was he when he said this?"

"We were mmm twelve or thirteen I think."

"Thirteen." He takes another half step closer, his lips inches from my own. "I think you might have, well, changed a bit since then." His voice drops into a deep, sultry tone. "Trust me."

"With my life." I whisper, drowning in his eyes.

We stand there for a moment, the electricity between us humming along my skin. I know if I stretch up, the real kiss would be just as magical as the fade one. But I am a Grey Warden and the other two recruits are nearby. I duck around him, walking towards the fire and offer them my help.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for keeping in a certain conversation word for word, but I do love it so and I couldn't write anything nearly as good. The rest of it is still mostly following the normal story path but with original-ish dialogue.

Thanks for all the kind comments and feedback so far and much thanks to my kind beta-reader. All mistakes are still mine, however.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

If I am being honest, I'd have to say that though I can't imagine anything prettier than his eyes, watching him sleep keeps me enthralled just as well. Never mind the fact that he just lay down, curled one arm under his head and is asleep. He didn't even remove his armour, but I remember how he looked underneath it well enough. His face relaxed, making him look younger and more boyish, his mouth curling into a sleepy smile, his eyelashes fluttering with his dreams.

Thinking of his dreams makes me pause, I wonder what kind of man _expects_ naked women to appear in his dreams. And then expects those naked women to kiss him. I frown, the log I sit on suddenly too close to his sleeping form. I'm sure I can still smell his scent of soap and leather. Perhaps he is dreaming of those types of women now. I mean, the way he joked with me, he probably works that charm and those eyes on every woman he meets. Maker, I'm a fool.

Furious with myself for falling for his womanizing charms, I spend the last two hours of my watch buffing my splint-mail. Darkspawn taint is bloody hard to remove. Despite Alistair's fears, Jory avoids me the whole time. I can feel his eyes on me occasionally, but I ignore him as he paces through the treeline.

Eventually, my watch is over and I kneel by Alistair's sleeping form, shaking his shoulder gently. He rolls onto his back and peeks at me with one eye, granting me a lazy smile. "Awww, my lady, you woke me in the middle of a good dream. Oh wait, that was last night, wasn't it?" He almost purrs the last line.

I scowl and scoot backwards, dropping my hand from his shoulder as if burned. He looks a little surprised and sits up, running his fingers through his hair.

"Soooo, my turn at watch. Thanks." His eyes don't leave my face. "No mmm... problems? You're fine?"

"Fine thanks." I still don't look at his eyes. "Just a little tired."

He nods, moving aside so that I can sleep on the tattered bedroll. I curl around myself, my back to the log where he had sat. It is hard to not think of him though, the bedding smells so strongly of his scent. I could feel it following me into my dreams, making me feel safe as I watch the hordes of darkspawn marching through my head, the scent wrapping around me almost as closely as his arms had.

#

The sky is a deep red, the sun just clawing above the horizon when I wake. At some point during the night, I've rolled over, and I see Alistair sitting on the ground, his back against the log, watching me. His face crinkles into a smile, his golden brown eyes warming me. I can't help myself and I smile back.

He waves a hand and I look, there's a mug of tea steaming next to me, with a thick slice of bread and cheese.

My stomach rumbles as my grin widens. He might be a charmer, but he really does know how to look after a woman. I sit up, brushing the loose hairs off my face and hold the steaming mug close to my face, letting the rising heat warm my cheeks. I glance around the site. Jory is still fast asleep and Daveth walks the perimeter in the distance.

'Be brave, you can be friendly without drooling all over him. He _did_ make you breakfast.' I think, grabbing the bread and cheese with my other hand. As I lift it, I see a tiny white flower, hidden under the bread. I pause, wondering if it is growing there, then I notice the broken stem. I glance up at Alistair quickly, but he's looking at his own mug, his cheeks a scorching red.

I put down the mug and grab the flower while he's not looking, tucking it inside my splint-mail chest.

I walk to the log and huddle down on the floor next to him, a little closer to him this time. Daveth nods to me, but continues to circle, his gaze turning away from us. Alistair doesn't speak, his golden brown eyes watching me.

"Good morning, Alistair, thank you for breakfast." I put my face back into the mug and take a sip. A little strong, but the warmth is wonderful.

"Shush, keep it down, I've only got enough cheese for us two." He winks at me.

"Mmm good, I _love_ cheese." I take a very unlady-like bite and struggle to chew.

Somehow, of all the things that has happened between us, this sentence is the one that seems to trip him up. His cheeks turn red, his mouth opens and closes and he just stammers for a moment.

"Are you alright?" I lower the mug, wondering if he is feeling ill.

"You. Are. Perfect." He grins. Seeing a flush creeping up my cheeks, he continues with a loud whisper. "Well, except for the snoring."

"I do not snore!" I argue, ignoring the first part of his sentence. "I don't think."

"Oh yes you do, like a little piglet..." And he follows with the cutest little piggy grunts I've ever heard, making me gasp with laughter.

"Andraste's bloody sword, stop! I almost choked on this sandwich!" I laugh.

"Well, the upside of _that_ is more cheese for me!" He grins back.

There's a loud snort, and Jory sits up, rubbing his head, with a scowl in our direction. I roll my eyes and sip my tea again, looking at the remains of the fire.

"Ah, now that the warm fuzzy part is over, shall we get back to the ritual dismemberment? Oh wait, it's not Tuesday, is it?" Alistair stands up and starts to pack up the temporary camp.

#

We're at the tower, and the scrolls aren't there. I see the worry on Alistair's face, just as a slender, dark haired woman appears from the ruins. Her clothes hang off her in rags, draped to cover as little as possible. I see her yellow, demonic eyes and frown. Instinctively, I don't like her. There's a bitterness to her, like lemon juice when you expect sugar, that makes me distrust her. Her tales of a mother finding the scrolls seem too perfect - why would she come looking, why would she take them? But we have no choice but to follow.

Alistair and I hang back, though Daveth is happy to walk alongside the witch, his eyes glued to her barely concealed form. Alistair is whispering constantly to me, his concern hidden under jokes about hags and toads and swooping.

"Thing is, if she swooped too much, she'd fall right out of that top." He chuckles.

I roll my eyes, realising I was right about him, all he ever thinks of is naked women. He sees my annoyance and blushes.

"I don't mean I _want_ her to fall out, I mean, not that I don't like women, of course I like women, you're much nicer and softer and cuddlier than men. It's more that if I had a choice of _her_ falling out and _you_, it'd be you, every time..." He speaks quickly, babbling through his confusion.

Snorting, I walk faster, away from him, but a secret warmth fills me. I keep thinking about what he's said, the rosy blush on his cheeks, the white flower tucked into my armour and I barely remember meeting the witch's mother. I do, however, remember the look of relief on Alistair's face when he holds the scrolls, the wide smile he gives me as we head back to Ostagar.

#

Duncan is pleased, taking the scrolls and the vials from us. He tells us that we're free to rest for a few hours, but I notice Alistair hanging back, and I hear Duncan say my name. Alistair shushes him, and looks around, his face crimson. I can't help myself and I creep closer to listen, wondering what I've done wrong.

"Well, you know how it is when you've stayed up late and you've eaten too much cheese... you end up having _those_ kind of dreams." Alistair begins.

Duncan frowns at Alistair and crosses his arms. "... But you eat the most cheese I've ever known a man to eat..."

"Now you see why I thought it was just another particularly vivid cheese dream! It wasn't until she appeared here that I realised something was different."

Duncan rubs his chin, thinking. "You know all Grey Wardens can sense each other, like we can sense the darkspawn. It's partly why we're so effective in battle... but fade sharing like this, as I said, it's been recorded once or twice, but it's incredibly rare. Are you sure?"

Alistair sighs. "No I guess I'm not sure, sure, it only happened the once. I don't know _why_ it happened, but..." He blushes crimson again.

"Alistair, what's wrong?" Duncan lays a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"How do I tell you this... well, you know me, you know about my Chantry upbringing. It's not exactly easy for a boy like me, you know. I'd hardly seen a woman who wasn't over sixty and a priest before I left their loving care. And since joining the Wardens, well, there aren't any other women, so..."

"Ah. I think I follow your 'cheese dream' comment more fully now." It was hard to tell in the firelight, but I can swear Duncan's tanned cheeks are flushed. "Nothing... too untoward happened I take it?"

"Thank the Maker, no. Mainly, if I'm honest, because I haven't a clue what I'm doing. But at least now I know who she is, I can make sure we don't end up in that situation again."

I lean back against the tree, . Chantry upbringing, never met any women.. It explains so much, the tender kiss, the exploring hands, the red blushing cheeks. Oh sweet Andraste help us, we are _both_ virgins.

I barely heard Duncan closing with "Let's get through this ritual and tonight you can see if it happens again. We might be worrying over nothing."

#

The ritual doesn't go as simply as it did for me. I felt, different, changed, stronger, darker. But watching Daveth choking to death fills my head with a roaring sound. I can't move, I'm frozen as Ser Jory pulls a blade on Duncan. I don't know why, but I see my Father, his blood staining the floor, little Oren, barely alive before he's cut down. And now poor Jory. So much waste, so much death.

I sink to my knees, watching Duncan handle Jory's body with great respect and affection, but all I can do is shiver. Alistair notices me falling and catches me, his arms pulling me upright, held against him.

"Duncan, what's wrong with her?"

My teeth chatter as I repeat. "So much death, Father, Mother..." Tears course down my cheeks and I close my eyes.

Duncan hisses, his voice close to my ear. "Maker, I was foolish. I brought Thessaly here because Arl Howe attacked Highever. He killed her whole family in front of her a few days ago. Parents, nephew… Everyone. This looks like delayed shock. I didn't think...Damn it."

Alistair gasps, his arms moving to lift me off my feet, my body pressing against his as he holds me in his arms. "What? When was this? Duncan, you didn't tell me, I'd... I don't know, I'd have looked after her more, I'd have..."

"I'm sorry, my Lady. I have failed you." I feel Duncan's gloved hand brush lightly against my cheek before he continues speaking to Alistair. "Please, take her to her tent, let her rest. Look after her, Alistair."

"I will. Always." Alistair's voice is thick with emotion and I can feel how quickly his heart is beating as he carries me. They start walking towards the bonfire and my tent, Alistair's arms cushioning me securely.

"I worry that I did the wrong thing in bringing her to the Wardens. This thing between you seems so strong." Duncan sighs.

"I wouldn't give this up for the world." Alistair's face is inches from my own, I can feel his breath on my cheeks.

"And that, Alistair, is precisely why I worry. All Grey Wardens have a sacred duty that is greater than any of us."

At the tent, I feel Alistair place me inside, on my bedroll. I should feel embarrassed, but I can't move, a numbness stealing over my limbs, leaving me unable to move. He's so gentle as he removes my armour, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face as he finds the white flower tucked inside. He places it carefully on top of my armour, his eyes shining.

He starts to back out of the tent, when I realise I can move. I reach out a hand and touch his cheek. "Please, don't leave me. Not now."

For a moment, I think he'll leave, then he's kneeling beside me, removing his own splint-mail. Wrapping me in my blanket, he sits beside my head, holding my hands in his own. There are no other sounds, besides our breathing, and his warmth seeps through his hands back into my body. I don't even realise when I fall asleep.

#

The Archdemon flies above where I stand shivering, arms wrapped around myself, watching the army moving in formation below. It looks bigger, more darkspawn than before, all of them roaring their approval at the black dragon.

I sense him behind me before he speaks, but I don't turn around. I feel his hands slip around my waist as he hugs me gently, this time his body is held away and it feels comforting. I relax back against him, letting my head fall against his shoulder.

"Are you... do you want to talk, Thess?" I hear his soft voice by my ear and I shake my head.

"No, not now." I mutter.

"Sorry," I feel him tense a little. "I didn't mean to pry." His hands loosen their grip on me and I can feel his hesitation. I grab his hands and squeeze them gently.

"Soon, I promise you, I would love to talk to you. Just, right now, I need... distracting." I turn around to face him, but find myself stunned by his beauty. "Oh. That did it."

Really, no man should look that good when covered in scars, but his muscular torso and light tan just makes the faint white lines look decorative. Especially when his statue-beautiful face is unmarked.

He raises one eyebrow and I stop gaping, closing my mouth with an audible snap. It's very hard to concentrate when you're both naked under the Makers gaze. It's my dream, I think, it's MY dream. And a simple red robe settles around me. It is my dream though, so it clings and drapes in all the right places. I notice him noticing this and feel a smug little smile tug at my cheeks.

"Oh, now that is cheating, where are _my_ clothes?" He moans, putting his hands on his hips. This draws my eyes down and what I see there causes my cheeks to flame. My dream, my _dream_. And while he remains shirtless, a pair of loose pants cover his lower half. The fact I noticed he needed _loose_ pants is burned on my brain.

"Nice trick, you need to show me how you do it."

I shrug and blush, still lost for words, still thinking of what I've just looked at and wondering how it all _works_. I have urges like you would not believe and no idea what to do about any of it.

"I'm sorry, you know, for last time." He smiles, destroying my train of thought again. "I don't just kiss every girl I meet, you know..."

"Kiss? You call that _just_ kissing?" I splutter.

"Cabooling then..." He says.

I raise an eyebrow at the word, and we both laugh. His brows draw down, his expression serious once again. "Duncan says fade-sharing isn't unheard of, but it's only been documented twice before."

"What else did he tell you?" I focus on his lips, his teeth, anything but those knowing golden brown eyes.

"Oh, something about how people who have this will share the fade for the rest of their lives. Nothing, you know, serious or anything."

I chew my lip and think for a moment of what this means, a lifetime of distraction and no restful sleep? A man whom I can never escape? Would I ever want to?

"Oh, well, if we're in this for life, it's a good job I find you funny I guess." My mouth answers by itself.

"Funny, charming _and_ dashingly handsome one might hope?" He grins in reply. He moves his arms as he speaks, making his stomach muscles ripple. I gulp, mesmerised.

"If I say yes to the handsome bit, will that lead to more... caboodling?" I manage.

His face breaks into a smile. "Did you just say I _was_ handsome? You did, didn't you?"

A blush creeps up my cheeks. "It was just idle conversation! I admit nothing, the word may have crossed my lips. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while." For once, he is the one who backs off, rubbing his hand through his hair, his cheeks bright red. "I probably should explain, I was raised in the Chantry. I... I don't...I mean... I'm not good at this..." He waves his arms wildly, but I follow his meaning.

I smile and nod. "I understand, believe me. Remember I'm a Cousland, raised under the watchful eye of all of Highever. It was all 'behave yourself, think of your family name... duty and honour'."

"Ah yes, duty and honour, the Revered Mother was big on those, too."

"So, if you were raised by the Chantry, have you never..?" I ask, wondering if I am right about him.

"Never...? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?"

"You know what I mean." I flush again.

"I'm not sure I do. Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

"Now you're making fun of me." I whisper, mortified.

"Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought. Well, tell me: have _you_ ever licked a lamppost in winter?" The way he drawls the last question makes a throbbing heat fill my body again. I glance down at his naked chest and lick my lips. I shake my head, not trusting my voice to reply.

"Good. I hear it's quite painful. I remember one of the younger initiates did it on a dare, once, and there was pointing and laughing... oh, the humanity." He raises one eyebrow and clasps his hands to his heart, making me smile despite my embarrassment.

"I, myself, have also never done it. _That_. Not that I haven't thought about it, of course, but... you know." His eyes are fixed on my face and I find it hard to breathe again. "Living in the Chantry, they taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That's not so bad, is it?"

"Again with the calling me beautiful." I half smile.

"Of course you are, and you know it. You're ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying."

"I would never hurt you." I reach up and take his hand, squeezing it gently.

His face turns serious again and his voice drops a touch deeper again. "Nor I you."

#

I wake up, warm throughout my body for the first time in days and I see why. Alistair is lying next to me, his hand still clutching mine just as in my dreams. He obviously fell asleep sitting beside me, fully clothed but minus the mail. His face was relaxed, his warm skin pink and glowing, his hair tickling my nose.

I lie for a moment, enjoying looking at him, feeling his breath on my skin. I realise that somehow, despite all we were going through, despite having only just met him, I have come to care for this strange and crazy man. All my life, my brother Fergus has pointed out my funny nose or my wonky teeth, how flat my chest was, or how stupid my hair looked. Besides the court toadies my Father taught me to avoid, no-one had ever complimented me before - not on my looks, nor my fighting, or my courage. I mean, Maker, the way Alistair looks at me, like he believes I am special, like I am worthy of a handsome Grey Warden like him! I'm lying here, amazed at this realisation when he stirs in his sleep, murmuring my name under his breath.

Like a startled rabbit, I scurry out of the tent, backing carefully away from him. As I close the tent up, I hear Duncan clear his throat and I jump. He's standing nearby at the fire, watching me, obviously aware of Alistair in my tent. I square my shoulders and walk towards him, ignoring my flaming cheeks.

"It's not what it looks like..." I begin, but the look in Duncan's deep brown eyes dries up the words in my mouth.

"When I met you, I had a feeling you would be good for Alistair. Now, I can see I was right. I'm asking you, Lady Cousland, to take care with him, he is a strong warrior, but he has the purest heart of anyone I know."

"Pure? Alistair?" A giggle escapes me. "Believe me, his cheese dreams are a million miles from pure!"

Duncan sighs, but I can see his mouth twitch into a tiny smile. "You two really _are_ perfect for each other. But, heed me for a moment and consider your relationship with him. You may be bound together in the fade _for life_. Don't do anything rash or that you may regret. Alistair does not live his life by halves. If he loves, he will love with his whole soul."

A shiver runs up my spine, it seems as if Duncan has read my mind. "I... it's too soon for me to answer that honestly, but I can promise that I will never hurt him, Duncan."

Duncan clasps my shoulder and smiles warmly at me. "Thank you. That is all I can ask."

I feel a change, and look at the tent. "He's awake."

Duncan frowns at me. "You are so sensitive to him?"

I keep watching the tent, waiting for his golden brown head to appear and nod absently. "Yes. It's hard to describe, he feels like a part of me. It's like a faint blur on the edge of my thoughts at all times."

"He has had so little joy in his life, I hope that can change. Seeing you both like this, the strength of this Grey Warden bond, I have a feeling that you are destined to be great heroes." Duncan smiles at me.

I turn to Duncan and smile back, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. "Thank you, that means a lot to me."

"Morning. What's going on? What are you two talking about? Why is she touching you?" I hear him ask.

"Talking about you of course." I cannot keep a giggle from escaping.

"Me?" Alistair wanders over, rubbing his hair. His voice sounds like a sleepy five year old. "Were you? Why? Why were you talking about me? Duncan, is she being mean? Are _you_ being mean?"

I stick out my tongue but don't answer, delighted by how cute he looks, half-asleep, hair sticking up and a worried expression.

"As I said before, perfect for each other." Duncan says dryly.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews. I've added in a little more Duncan as I really liked him and was sad at how quickly he left the game. Don't worry though, more Alistair soon.

Once again, thanks to Aaliia for beta-ing my waffle before I posted it here :) She spotted some terribly embarrassing goofs (Did I really call Calien Maric, umm, yes, it seems I did *blush*), but once again, all mistakes are my own stupidity.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"When on long journeys, other Grey Wardens often tell stories to while away the time, so what I know might not be entirely accurate. I do not know how much it could help you." Duncan shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze.

"Any information would be nice." I tuck my knees up to my chest and lean forward. The fire is blazing, the warmth comforting as the cold seeps up through the ground. The smell of burning pine and ash tickles my nose. Alistair is standing to one side, his arms folded across his chest. His face is covered by flickering shadows and I can't read his expression.

Duncan turns the spits, ensuring that the rabbits don't get too burned. Reluctance is etched on his face, making me worry more.

"Please, Duncan. We need to prepare for the battle soon..." I see Alistair nod once and press on. "And who knows what will happen after that. I would truly appreciate anything you could tell me, Ser Knight."

He raises an eyebrow at my noble manners, but nods once and lets go of the spit.

"The tales of Prasutagus and Bouda are rarely told, for they lived around the time of the Fourth Blight and that story is the more popular one. Garahel led an army of Grey Wardens north to face the Archdemon. On the way, Prasutagus is said to have recruited an Antivan warrior woman named Bouda. Their tale is remembered as their fighting skills were unsurpassed. They could clear whole darkspawn armies together and, so the stories say, it was their skill that cleared the path for Garahel to personally defeat the Archdemon. They declared that their prowess was due the taint allowing them to live two lives. They spent their days fighting together and their nights in the fade. Never apart for but a moment. They claimed to know each others thoughts, that their time in the fade, well, helped them to know everything about each other."

He speaks quickly, but I feel that he is editing something important out of the story. I don't push it though, as I can ask again later when he knows me better, when we know for sure that this is what Alistair and I share. Alistair stands immobile and silent in the shadows, but I can feel his attentiveness.

"Duncan, did the stories ever say if it ended? Did they spend their lives entwined, never apart, or did it fade over time? Is there a way to stop it?" I see Alistair shift his weight impatiently from foot to foot at my question, but Duncan doesn't look around, his focus on the cooking rabbit.

"No. The tales do not tell of this. In fact, little is told of them after Garahel felled the Archdemon. They were rumoured to have returned to Antiva, but that is all I know. Remember, these were stories told by men late at night, full of ale and humour. They tended to focus on the more, ah, lewd aspects of the story, not the facts."

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Alistair stand stock still again, and am glad the fire is hiding my own embarrassed response. "You told Alistair of two recorded occurrences. Do you remember the other?"

"I'm afraid not, Thessaly. My knowledge of Grey Warden history is not complete, by any means. Your best bet will be to travel to Weisshaupt Fortress one day and consult the records there. Or perhaps visit with Brother Genetivi in Denerim. He is a great historical scholar." Duncan pulls a rabbit off the fire and offers it to me. I nod my thanks, watching Alistair accept his food in silence.

Nibbling on the half burnt, half cooked meat for a while, I think about what Duncan had said, and what he left out. The synchronised fighting I'd already glimpsed a little of in the Kokari Wilds, but the idea of living two lives in one scares me.

My knowledge of the Fade is not as extensive as say, a mages, but I know that the Chantry claim it was the first realm created by the Maker and that all living beings enter the fade when they dream. Hmm... or maybe that is wrong, I think I remember something about dwarven immunity, or was it magic immunity? I realise I've been gnawing at a bone like my Mabari and stop, the rabbit grease smeared all over my hands and face. I expect a smart comment from Alistair, but as I turn to him, he walks away.

"Time for that meeting with King Cailen, I take it?" I throw the remains of my meal onto the fire and wipe my hands on my leather breeches.

"Yes, I think Cailen and Loghain are back now. Come, follow me. His Majesty has requested to see you."

"Do you think he has had any word of my brother, Fergus?" I trot alongside Duncan, his stride one and a half times the length of mine. Strange, Alistair is as tall as Duncan, but our speed matches perfectly. I see a shadow moving near by tent, it looks like Alistair and I try to feel if it's him. I'm still not used to this sensation, but my fledgling senses confirm that it. What confuses me though is the impression I get of his emotions, a mix of disappointment and anger.

"One second Duncan, I need to ask Alistair a question." I hurry away, only half-hearing Duncan asking me to be quick. Alistair feels me coming and turns away, making as if to leave.

"Wait, Alistair." I reach out and catch his arm, but he pulls away, scowling. "What's wrong? I can tell you're unhappy."

"Unhappy? Why would I be unhappy?" He says. It's dark where we're standing, but his eyes are glistening more than I like.

"Don't, please, not to me. I can _feel_ it. What's wrong?" I can see him ready to flinch if I touch him, but my hands are itching to hold him. I fold them across my chest to keep them still.

"_Is there a way to stop it_?" He says, his voice sounding strange. "Isn't that what you asked Duncan? I guess should be used to it by now. My Father didn't want me, neither did the Arl. The Chantry positively hated me and now you too."

"Wait, you think I hate you?" I'm shocked, but at the same time, the feelings pouring off him make more sense. The anger and hate isn't aimed at me, it's aimed at himself. "Alistair, of course I don't. I've..." I hesitate, but the expression on his face forces me to be honest. "I've never been closer to anyone in my life."

"And yet, the first thing you want to know is how to get rid of me." He sighs, the sound tearing my heart. I want to respond, but hear Duncan calling my name, his impatience clear.

"I will explain. But, first I have to go with Duncan..."

"Never mind, I know that Cailan must come first. He always has." Alistair disappears into the shadows once more.

#

I'm still not sure why King Cailan told Duncan that Alistair and I should be the ones to light the beacon, but somehow, here were are, almost at the top of a tower instead of helping in the main battle. We've barely had time to speak, as this 'safe' mission quickly went south when we found the tower crawling with darkspawn. We catch glimpses of the battle below through the windows. The fighting is intense, but we seem to be holding them back. It's getting darker, so it's hard to see, but some of the monstrous shapes moving below make me shudder.

I know that even a week ago, I couldn't have won these fights. Now Alistair is my shadow, I can feel his presence buzzing along my skin as we plough through wave after wave of darkspawn. Our movements are a synchronised ballet, always together, always in time. I can only imagine the power of the Grey Wardens army below, if they have even a portion of this gift. The two soldiers following us are more scared than helpful, but they manage to keep up.

As we ascend the last staircase, I feel a cold shudder. In front of us stands a beast, eight feet tall, with horns sprouting another two feet. Its mouth is a mess of fangs, blood and gore drip from its huge hands. Truly diabolical, and proof that the Maker has left us.

"Ogre." Alistair shouts over its roar. "Avoid its grasp, it can snap a man in two."

As he charges forward, shield swinging, the beast shrieks a challenge. Fear ripples down my spine as I run forward, but the fear is for Alistair. He keeps taunting it, screaming, smashing his shield, so that it will focus its anger on him, allowing me to hurt it. But its hide is so thick, I barely scratch it.

The beast slams down a massive fist, knocking Alistair onto his back and my heart leaps into my mouth as it swings its arm again. Alistair rolls out of the way a moment before the ogre connects with the floor, smashing the flagstones. With its other hand, it snatches him up and raises him in the air.

I can't breathe, I can feel through Alistair how tightly it's gripping him, its fingers crushing at his ribs. I slam my greatsword against the back of its knees, knocking it off balance. Alistair manages to slip out of its grasp, stumbling to one side, blood dripping from his mouth.

'That was too close, this isn't going to work! What did Duncan say, any means necessary?' I look at the two men cowering at the stairs and harden my heart. Someone has to make the tough decisions and there is no way I am going to let Alistair die when we have other options.

"You and you! Get over here and attack you snivelling cowards!" I order, watching them gather their wits. "NOW."

The scared warriors stumble closer and I worry that they won't make a difference, that I'm just getting them killed. Yet somehow they do help. Even with their feeble attempts at fighting, the ogre backs away from us, its huge hands trying to swat us away. One of the soldiers is punched in the head and falls in a heap. The ogre doesn't seem to like being surrounded, and its distraction allows Alistair to attack. With a battle roar, he leaps fluidly onto its chest and rams his sword into its eye, forcing it backwards.

I sprint over to him as he tumbles off the corpse to the floor, covered in blood, but he points a shaking hand to the large stone fireplace.

"The signal." He coughs, a spray of blood hitting the stones. "Please."

I purse my lips, unhappy at leaving him in pain, but he's right. The wood lights easily, the flames roaring up the chimney to the beacon above. Moving back to Alistair, I watch him limp to the window, peering out at the battle below. I go to his side, putting my arm carefully around his waist to help support him. He doesn't acknowledge me, his attention on the battle raging outside.

Something seems wrong. Even though we have lit the beacon there are no reinforcements. Even in the growing darkness, I can see the human armies being overwhelmed by the darkspawn. They are being driven back, routed, as more tainted beings pour out of the wilderness.

"We were too slow." Alistair's face is the picture of desolation, but I shake my head.

"No, no we weren't. Duncan said to send the signal in about an hour. Look at the moon, 'tis only just gone an hour since we left him. This is... I don't know, it's wrong, but this isn't our fault."

"My lady!" One of the soldiers shouts. "My lady, there's sounds on the stairs..."

I drop my arm from Alistair's waist as the sound of clattering footsteps echo through the tower. Genlocks, hurlocks, there are so many I lose count. I face them, blocking Alistair as much as I can, spreading my arms wide. And then a black rain of arrows knocks me out cold.

#

It's strange, waking up to those reptilian eyes. Morrigan hovers around the bed, fussing and poking at my wounds. I'm disorientated enough that I let her talk, until she starts to insult Alistair. Finding out that Duncan has died by her laughing at Alistair's reaction is too much and I burst out of the hut in just my small clothes.

I feel him and see him at the same time, his face distraught, his shoulders slumped as he stares out over the swamps.

"Alistair!" I run towards him.

"Thess! You're alive! I was so worried, I could barely feel you, you weren't in the Fade. I thought you were dead for sure." He opens his arms and scoops me up, hugging me tightly. I squeeze back, so glad to feel him, it feels like we've been apart for years. I breathe deeply, wood and leather and smoke, so unique to him.

"Maker, I've missed you." His voice tickles my ear and I nod, struck mute by the depth of feelings we share. I feel his happiness mingle with my relief and it is hard to know who is feeling what.

I feel, rather than see, Morrigan's mother and pull back slightly. Alistair loosens his grip, but doesn't drop his arms. She stands watching us, her head cocked to one side, as if she is trying to puzzle us out.

"Thank you. Morrigan told me you rescued us." I don't voice my suspicions that it isn't out of the goodness of her heart, but this is soon proven by her mother, allegedly the Flemeth of legend, forcing her daughter on us. Alistair is unsure, but one thing my father taught me that I have found to be true again and again, is that while you keep your friends close, you must keep your enemies closer. Morrigan joins us.

The journey to Lothering is hard, we are both tired and sore while Morrigan's incessant sniping becomes very old very quickly. I force myself to be polite until eventually I can't take anymore and ask her to scout ahead for the night while we sleep, 'since she knows the area _so_ well.' It seems that her vanity is her weak spot and she leaves us alone.

Alistair builds up a fire while I prepare a meagre meal. Too tired to do much more than this, we huddle together in front of the fire and watch the flickering orange flames. I try to draw Alistair out of himself, but he barely responds to anything with more than a grunt. I have felt his emotions whirling around me all day, his guilt almost crushing me, and I have no idea how to help him if he won't speak. I'm still pondering how to reach him, when I fall asleep and slide into the Fade realm.


	5. Chapter 5

Short break for the weekend, then I'll be back with another chapter on Monday. Hope you're all still enjoying it :)

* * *

Chapter 5

Alistair is sitting on the edge of the cliff, watching the darkspawn army move below. His shoulders are slumped and I can feel his emotions even more strongly in the Fade. Loss, loneliness and guilt are tearing at his soul. I can feel their claws digging into me, his emotions affecting mine. He doesn't react, though I'm sure he must know I'm sharing his dream.

I kneel behind him and wrap my arms around his bare shoulders, trying to touch his skin as much as possible with my own. He feels cold and he's trembling. I press my face against his neck and swallow. If his emotions are affecting me, then I can do the same back to him, I know I can.

"When I was six, my brother Fergus gave me a vial, with a horrible green liquid in it. He told me it was an invisibility potion made by a wicked witch. Of course I drank it and ran gleefully around Highever being naughty - stealing strawberries from the kitchen and kicking guards in their backsides. They would all look surprised and make strange comments 'Gosh, who did that' or 'where did those strawberries go' and I would run away on my chubby little legs and continue acting like a demon. Of course the drink was just some horrible tasting brew and everyone in the castle was in on his little trick to give me some amusement, but I had such a fun day. It's one of my fondest memories of him."

Alistair doesn't speak, but his breathing has steadied and he is sitting a little straighter. I kiss his neck once, and keep trying to wrap him in my loving memories.

"I was always a terror, probably because I was brought up as a boy, rather than a giggling girl with frocks and curled hair. Once, a visiting nobles son tried to take my practice sword and in the ensuring fight, I bloodied his nose. Even though _he_ had tried to take _my_ sword, Mother was angry with me for weeks. I was made to wear ridiculous dresses that I hated and my weapons were all confiscated. Luckily Father was proud of me for standing up for myself and let me us his real sword when Mother wasn't around. Much better than my wooden one." The atmosphere is changing, I can feel the despair lifting and my love for my family is seeping into both of us. His racing heart is slowing and his trembling has stopped.

"Did I ever mention that I met Cailen when we were all younger? And his wife, Anora? I think Maric and Loghain were visiting my father and they'd brought their children along. Cailen wasn't interested in talking to me, he ran away with Fergus to play soldiers and I was stuck with Anora. She bossed me about, dressed me up, curled my hair. I felt so stupid, waddling around in my mothers shoes and with make-up plastered all over my face."

"I wish I'd seen it. I bet you looked sweet." His voice is low, but I feel it rumble through his back. I can't help but smile, it's working.

"Hmm, perhaps I didn't explain it very well. _Sweet_ wasn't quite the look Anora had gone for. I was made up like... well, like a prostitute. My Father roared with laughter, but I remember Loghains distain. All I could think was if being a hero made you _that_ angry all the time, I never wanted to become one."

"If he even _is_ a hero, if what Flemeth told us was true." His voice is a little louder. I nuzzle his neck, enjoying his aroma and tighten my arms around his throat. He reacts by relaxing back against me, clasping my hands in his own.

"What she said feels true." I say. He nods and I continue. "It was Arl Howe, you know."

"Sorry, Arl Howe what?" His fingers caress my hand gently, his thumb rubbing along the wrist.

"Arl Howe. He was the one who slaughtered them all. Mother, Father, Oriana my sister-in-law and my nephew Oren. Howe was a family friend of many years, I believe my Mother once had hopes of me marrying his son Thomas." I try to laugh, but it sounds more like sobbing.

Alistair twists his body around, pulling me onto his lap and crushing me against his chest. I bury my head in his shoulder and close my eyes. I can feel the tears pouring down my cheeks, and I hold onto his arm, my nails digging into his muscles. He strokes my hair, and I feel him kiss the top of my head.

"It hurts so much, sometimes if feels like my heart will explode. Oren was so young, barely a boy and his mother was the sweetest woman, always siding with me for my wild ways, helping me hide my worst bruises from fighting. Father..." My voice breaks and I stop to breathe for a moment. "Father cared so much... he trusted Howe and I feel so much fury that his trust was betrayed. Then again, I suppose I betrayed him myself."

Alistair's hand stop moving and he holds his breath. I shake my head and squeeze his arm. "My parents were alive when Duncan and I left. Father was badly wounded, but Mother stayed with him, hoping to give us more time to escape. Maybe we could have fought them off, maybe they'd both be here now, I don't know. I should have defended them to the death."

"You are too hard on yourself. If Duncan left, then truly, there was nothing to be done. I know him so well, he will.... he would never have left if there was anything to be done." Alistair sighs and rests his cheek on my hair. "You didn't know Duncan as long as I did, but he was like a Father to me. He was the first person in my life who cared about what I wanted."

I feel his shoulders shake and I tighten my grip on him, letting him know that I'm here while he succumbs to his grief. He gains control of himself in a few minutes, and I finally feel his guilt lighten.

"I'm sorry, I should have handled it better. Duncan warned me that something like this could happen. Any one of us could die in battle. I shouldn't lose it, not when so much is riding on us." His voice is soft.

"Never apologise to me for your feelings." I look up into his eyes. He looks away quickly, his eyes red. "Everything you've said has made me realise how connected we are. We've both lost so much."

"Part of me wishes that I was with him, you know. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him. For him to have been betrayed by Loghain, just as your father was by Howe..."

"I get through every day by knowing that sometime, sometime soon, I will meet Howe in combat and he will die by my hand."

"I will be there to stand beside you, if you need me." Alistair murmurs into my hair, his hands still combing through my tresses.

"Of course I want you there, my fellow Grey Warden." I smile at him. "And I will be there with you when you question Loghain about his crimes." I feel the change in the atmosphere. The memories we share have changed our emotions, the guilt has been replaced with a righteous anger and I understand that talking through my own pain has been worth it. I've helped Alistair to see what he needs to do. I sit up straighter and hold his gaze.

"I don't wish this gone, you know. This... fade thing. When I was speaking to Duncan about it before, it's because I was scared. I've never had _any_ kind of relationship and I find myself bound to someone for life? "

He doesn't answer me, his golden brown eyes look back, but I can't interpret his expression.

"I know you can feel my emotions. Surely you can feel how much I enjoy your company?" I ask.

"You know I was just thinking the same thing, about how contented you made me feel. Then, I thought about it more and I wasn't sure if it was my own happiness I was feeling or yours. I'm... not very experienced in this sort of thing and half the time I don't even know what emotions _I'm_ having. Then I sense _your_ feelings and I get completely lost."

I laugh, nodding in agreement. "I'm so glad you said that. Earlier, when Morrigan was being her usual nasty self I had this feeling of pure hate roll over me and I wasn't sure where it came from. I don't like her, but the feeling, it felt like it came from outside of myself."

"Nope, that was me. I don't like her at all, she's a complete and utter bitch. I'm sure Flemeth sent her with us for some other reason than the one she said." His face creases in dislike.

"I'm sure you're right." I sigh and rest my head on his chest, absently stroking my hand along his arm, feeling the softness of his skin and comparing it to the hard muscle under my cheek.

"I... oh. I think I... completely lost my chain of thought..." He blinks quickly, his mouth hanging open.

I realise what I'm doing and pull my hands back to my lap quickly, dipping my face so that he can't see the flush rising. I feel his fingers grasp my chin and lift it gently, catching my eyes with his own.

"Thess..." He smiles at me, his face moving closer to my own. I can feel his breath on my lips.

"Thess!" The sharp voice snaps me out of my dream and I wake up to Morrigans face hovering over my own. With a grunt, I push her to one side and sit up, automatically reaching for my sword.

"What's wrong, darkspawn, bandits?" I push myself to my feet, leaning on my greatsword and trying to assess the situation.

"No, no. I was just tired of your ridiculous expression and you muttering that idiots name in your sleep." Morrigan complains.

I pause and look across at the witch. She stands there, arms crossed, with a smug expression on her face.

"You woke me up because my dreams annoyed you?" My fingers twitch on the hilt of my sword and I resist the urge to smash it into her face.

"If you could have seen the disgusting look on your face, believe me, I was doing you a favour. I'm sure you didn't want to dream of that _fool_." She indicates with her head Alistair's body, curled up next to where I had been lying.

"It's a Grey Warden thing. Strange dreams about darkspawn and the like. It will happen a lot." I say through clenched teeth. My fingers twitch when she calls Alistair a fool again and I recite the chant of light in my head.

"Tis so? Hmm, Mother had not told me of this. Even so, I find it _distasteful_." She turns away from me and begins gathering the discarded pans.

"Well, I'll be sure to bed down far away from you in the future, Morrigan. Anyway, tell me what you found out about Lothering."

I get her to give me an update on the town while Alistair still sleeps. I sneak glances at him whenever Morrigan looks away, pleased to see that his face seems less pale and that his dreams are peaceful.

Eventually he awakes with a snort, rolling up and grabbing his sword in one movement. I giggle as he recognises us and he rubs his eyes and blushes.

"You were both stood over me, I wasn't sure what was going on." I notice that he always sounds like a little boy upon waking. But today he holds my gaze and his expression is clearer.

"Ah. So you have finally decided to rejoin us then? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" Morrigan scowls at him.

"And like _that's_ going to help how? Leave him alone Morrigan." The urge to hit her is rising and I clasp my hands behind my back to control them.

I push her to help me pack up the camp, catching a quick smile of thanks from Alistair. I roll my eyes and keep her away from him for as long as I can.

We are not far from Lothering, when a small pack of darkspawn appear. We ready ourselves to fight and I judge it a good chance to see Morrigans skills. Just as they prepare to attack, I hear a barking and my Mabari Loki springs out of the bushes. With barely an acknowledging woof, we're fighting. Morrigan surprises me, she seems able to hold her own and the darkspawn fall before her. We actually make quite a good team.

Morrigan complains incessantly about Loki, but I'm thrilled to see him bonding with Alistair. He even doesn't mind when Alistair strokes him like a pet and when he's thrown a bone, I know I have nothing more to fear. Alistair and I spend the last leg of the journey discussing what to do next, speak to the dwarves or perhaps find the Dalish. He warns me the Templars might not like me talking to the Mages, and recommends visiting his old guardian, Arl Eamon, first. If we got someone with his status on our side, it might help with negotiations.

Lothering itself is depressing. Morrigan warned me that it was full of refugees, but the village itself is so full of desperate and starving people, I feel lost before we've even begun. The Blight is but a few days old and this is the state of Ferelden already?

But giving the elven family some money, and helping the lost boy to the Chantry help the mood. Morrigan complains when I try to stop a merchant fighting, but I'm getting good at ignoring her.

The problem begins when Alistair bumps into an old friend, a Knight from Redcliffe, and learns that Arl Eamon is sick, possibly dying. They both talk quickly about some old Chantry legend regarding Andrastes remains that I don't follow. Some mystical belief in the healing powers of her ashes. I try and keep the focus on the Blight, but I feel Alistair's disapproval. Now I don't know if we should continue on to Redcliffe or try to find out more about this Urn. I don't even know when it became my decision.

We find two more companions in Lothering. When Loghains men challenge us in the pub, a Chantry sister comes to our aid. Though only clad in robes, her fighting style reminds me of Duncan, twin blades flashing. Howver, when I speak to her, she seems a little crazy. Luckily as Alistair says 'she's more 'Ooh! Pretty colours!' then 'Muahahaha! I am princess stabbity, stab, kill, kill!'*. Such an eloquent boy, at times.

Leliana, as she's called, shows her worth very quickly, by unlocking the caged Qunari Sten. My knowledge of their race means that I persuade him to join our cause. Qunari are strong, disciplined warriors and I'm sure he can help us. By any means necessary.

And he does help. His first idea when we set up camp is that the two Grey Wardens should split the watch, to ensure full cover during the night. With all the new followers, I've hardly had a chance to speak to Alistair all day and this idea does not appeal. But it is the right choice and I nod to Alistair and shrug.

The camp feels strange, Morrigan has gone off by herself, but I don't have much privacy. Leliana's eyes are always on me and Sten doesn't seem to move from his post, watching us all with his violet eyes. I roll away from them all, lying with my back to the fire, and try to sleep. But I find myself alone with the horde, and the Archdemon is staring right at me.

* * *

* If you've never heard this wonderful comment - refuse to let her join your party at the pub and then refuse a second time at the exit to Lothering. Alistair will try and convince you to let her join. Lovely bit of dialogue!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It knows I'm here. I can feel its eyes upon me. The giant dragon swoops in the sky above me, scales shimmering a dark purple. It roars, spewing out the taint from its mouth. The sound rattles my bones and I fall to my knees. With wings outstretched, it flaps once, slowing down and landing in front of me.

The beast is so huge, I can barely comprehend its scale. Its eye looms above me, a pale yellow ringed with red. I can sense a monstrous intelligence considering me. An ancient God, tainted by darkspawn.

I have no idea what we think we're doing. How can we take on such a beast with feeble swords and a few magic sparks? It seems to understand my despair and roars, showering me with taint. The purplish black liquid soaks into my skin, dripping along my naked flesh.

I scream, trying to scrub it off, but the taint soaks in, mottling my skin. It thickens and splits, oozing taint, changing form. The Archdemon rears back its head and I see myself reflected in its eye. I barely recognise myself, I look like a monster, a darkspawn.

I wake up gasping, shivering in the cold. I feel a hand squeezing my own and realise Alistair is sitting beside me. He smiles at me, but I see worry in the lines around his eyes. It's late, everyone is asleep except him and the fire is burning low.

"Shhh, it's okay, Thess. It was just a dream. I'm here. Shh, it's okay." His fingers stroke my palm, warming me. I grip his hand tightly and try to slow my breathing.

"I'm fine, thank you Alistair." I look up at the stars and try to relax, taking deep breaths. His touch helps me steady myself and I feel both his happiness and his concern.

"I wish I could have been in there with you." He whispers, sliding a little closer to me. "You were shivering and I could feel how scared you were."

I lean my head against his legs and smile up at him, changing the subject. "I missed you, today. What with everyone asking for my time, all those refugees, Leliana, Sten… We barely spoke."

Even in the dying firelight, I can see his cheeks turning pink. I sit up and stretch, using it as an excuse to sit closer to him. I can feel his leg against my own and it makes my stomach flip. He turns away slightly, fumbling in his pack for a moment and I use it as an excuse to memorize his profile. I think I could stare at him all night without getting bored.

"Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?" Alistair holds out his hand to me, dropping something into my palm. The faint starlight shows me a delicate rose. It hasn't fully bloomed yet and the petals cling together tightly. It's my favourite colour, a deep, velvety red.

"Is this your new weapon of choice?" I say, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Alistair laughs and pretends to fence an invisible foe. "Yes, that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!"

Then he looks at me more seriously. "Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know that's pretty dull in comparison. I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness."

I smile, my fingers stroking the soft petals. I wish I'd seen him picking it, it is such a tender thing to do. "That's a nice sentiment."

Alistair looks down at his hands nervously. "I thought that I might…give it to you. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

I look up at him in surprise. "I…don't know what to say."

"I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it?" He rushes on, talking to his hands. "I just thought, here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it, yourself. You've had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this…darkness."

My heart is beating so loudly, I'm sure he can hear it. Feeling of nerves and fear and attraction swirl around me. I'm pretty sure they're mine, but I need to break the tension.

"So..." I lean closer to him and whisper. "Are we married now?"

He bursts into laughter, biting his knuckle to keep it quiet while everyone around us sleeps. "Ha!" He grins. "You won't land me that easily, woman! I know I'm quite the prize, after all, no need to start crying on me or anything."

I love his sense of humour. So few people beside my brother Fergus have ever understood me. It is almost fatal that this handsome, kind man is also damned funny too. He sees the serious expression flit across my face and looks worried.

"I guess it was, uh, just a stupid impulse. I don't know, was it the wrong one?" One eyebrow arches up, and it's all I can do to not kiss it.

I lift the flower close to my nose and inhale its delicate scent. Through the storm of emotions, my desire, his need, I pick out the strongest emotion. His fear of rejection. I catch and hold his gaze, making sure he can see my sincerity. "No, it wasn't. Thank you, Alistair."

He smiles in relief, his hands twisting around themselves nervously. "I'm glad you like it. Now, if we could move right on past this awkward and embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

"You know, up to now, the _steamy bits_ have all been in the Fade." I lean forward, my fingers caressing his arm, my lips close to his own. I see fear in his eyes and laugh to myself.

"You can smash an ogre in the face, but _I_ scare you?" I ask, fluttering my eyelashes innocently. For the first time in my life, I feel in control of an immense, feminine power. He has made me feel _beautiful_.

"You, my Lady, scare me more than an army of ogres." He answers, but he doesn't pull away from me. His eyebrows rise and his breathing hitches.

"Oh. I remind you of an ogre?" I pout, faking a sad expression, and know he will fall into my trap.

"Maker, I don't mean, I didn't explain..." He looks panicked for a moment.

I exhale slightly, watching his eyes widen at the feel of my breath on his lips. It's another chilly night, and he jumps when I place a hand on his thigh. I can feel the warmth of his leg through his leather breeches. I press my lips against his, feather-light. While it's much more chaste than our first Fade kiss, it is infinitely more fulfilling. His lips taste of strawberry tea and are softer than I remember, while his scent of wood and leather tickles my nose. The stubble on his chin scratches mine and it all feels so much more _real_.

I feel him tremble beside me and I brush his lips again before pulling back, my eyes still locked on his face. His mouth hangs open in surprise, his eyes unblinking. The emotions surrounding us are a maelstrom and I don't even try to understand them. I put my hand on his chest and push him back a little, smiling.

"Thank you. I mean it. I feel.... _special_." I move away quickly to my pack, wrapping the flower in a soft scrap of fabric. I can feel his eyes on my back, but I don't turn around. I may _feel_ beautiful, but at heart I am still a coward.

"Your turn for sleep." I say briskly. "I'll keep watch now. Get some rest."

He doesn't move for a long time, his breathing still uneven. Eventually, he realises that I'm not turning around and he curls up on the bedroll that I have recently vacated, head resting on his arm as usual. When I finally brave a glance, his eyes are still open.

"Goodnight." He whispers, before closing his eyes, traces of a smile on his lips.

Even in his sleep, I still sense his feelings. He's obviously having better dreams than me, as he is feeling relaxed and contented. The warmth washes over me. I smile. Maybe it only takes a kiss to drive the Archdemon away? This thought makes me wonder about those wardens, Prasutagus and Bouda. Did they feel this way? Did they begin to lose themselves in each other? Will there come a time when my feelings won't be my own?

Leliana wakes up earlier than the others and offers to watch the camp for an hour, giving me time to go wash in the stream. I get the hint and scrub my skin red raw. The stream doesn't help with my constantly feeling cold, though, and I scurry back to the fire as quickly as possible. I see that Alistair has woken up and has rebuilt the smoulders into a raging fire, with a pot of tea brewing beside it. Huddling close to the fire with a mug in hand, I could kiss him, but Sten's watchful eyes restrain me and I just lay a hand on his arm instead. He still blushes bright red though, his hand moving unconsciously to his lips and I feel that strange feminine smugness again. I could get to like this.

**#**

Coming across dwarven merchant Bodahn and his son Sandal is a gift from the Maker. After saving them from a random darkspawn attack, they agree to follow us. They can store food and tents on their cart and are happy to transport anything we need. I'm really looking forward to sleeping inside something that will be warmer than the cold ground. And some privacy might be nice, too. I think of shared tents, rather than shared bedrolls and a delicious warmth sinks through my stomach to between my legs, shivers crawling along my spine.

Leliana seems intent on hogging my time on the walk to Redcliffe, so I ask Alistair to take point as he knows the area. Really, it's an excuse so that I only need to half listen to the little Orlesian bard and focus my eyes on Alistair's beautiful form. She's not as dim as her prattling leads me to believe though, and she quickly forces me to pay attention to her, asking me questions about myself, my background, my upbringing.

"So, raised as a lady." She giggles, indicating my uncombed mane. "I could never tell. In Orlais you would have your hair tied up with a thousand ribbons, tiny bells and braided in flowers. You'd never be seen in armour, only silks and velvets for a woman like you."

I laugh at the idea. "I can count on both hands the number of times my Mother got me to wear a dress. And I've never had ribbons in my hair. Nor do I intend to have any in the future."

"That's a pity, you have wonderful hair. I would love to style it for you. Perhaps help you choose some clothes." I see her eyes on me again, taking in my uncombed hair, my lack of jewellery or makeup.

"Mmm, perhaps. When the Blight is less pressing." I walk a little faster, hoping to change the subject. I have no interest in being dressed by anyone ever again.

"So.... tell me about the men in your life." She chirps. She has kept up with me and is smiling at me with wicked gleam in her eye.

"The.. the what!" I splutter. My speeding up was a mistake, as I see Alistair stumble for a step. He must be able to hear our conversation, as he's normally very alert and graceful, even in full plate.

"You said you were, what? Nineteen? You must have _many_ tales of the men that you have charmed. A beautiful woman like yourself? I cannot imagine the number of broken hearts you must have left behind!" She chuckles again.

I try to slow down, but notice Alistair has also slowed his steps, his ears a bright pink colour. I roll my eyes and face the bard. "I'm afraid Orlais and Ferelden must be quite different. In fact, my Father kept me away from all potential suitors. I've never..." I blush and correct myself. "I'd never even kissed a boy."

Leliana squeals and I don't look at Alistair, who seems to have stumbled again.

"Oh, Thessaly! You have _so_ much to look forward to." She brushes some hair away from my cheek and wrinkles her nose before I reply. "Yes, yes, I know. _After_ the Blight."

We continue in silence for a while, before Leliana drops back to talk to Morrigan about cooking. Alistair sees this and beckons me to him, his face serious. I speed up a little and join him at the front. He walks quickly and we're soon out of hearing distance. He doesn't look at me, fiddling with the straps on his breastplate.

"Look, can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier." He looks at the castle in the distance. He's sweating and his voice sounds unsure.

"What's on your mind?" I try to unscramble the feelings surrounding me, but it's his usual mix of shame and guilt. The Chantry really knows how to screw up a boy.

"I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in? The reason he did that was because... well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my... half-brother, I suppose." He speaks quickly, his voice faltering over some of the words.

I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach. There's no air in my lungs and I can't seem to breathe. I stare at him in shock. "What?! You don't think you might have told me this before?"

He throws his hands up in the air, his voice raised. "How? 'Oh, by the way, King Maric had sex with a servant and she produced a bastard son. That's me.' I would have told you, but... it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they kept me secret. I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_. After all we've been through? All we've talked about and you couldn't find the time to mention this?" I feel betrayed. I have opened up to him, shared secrets about myself and this... the most important thing in his life, he doesn't trust me with it.

"You're right. I should have." He shrugs. I can feel his emotions clearly now, his annoyance at my unreasonableness, his frustration that I'm questioning him. That tips me over the edge into a blinding rage.

"You _should_ have?" I hear myself shouting, but my anger is rising and I can't control it. "By the Maker, Alistair, you should have told me right after Ostagar! You're not telling me now because you trust me, or even want to tell me. You're only doing it because you're _forced_ to. Now that I'm about to meet the man who raised you, you can't _not_ tell me anymore. Maker, I'm a fool." Angry tears trickle down my cheeks and I swipe at them.

"No, Thess, please, calm down. I've never talked about it to _anyone_. Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me... even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know for as long as possible." He tries to grab hold of my arms, but I wrench myself free. I can't even look at him.

"What, did you think it would _just go away_ if we didn't talk about it? The first thing your Arl is going to do is use you to challenge Loghain. It's what I would do. It's our best chance to gain the alliances we need. Well, it's what I would do if you didn't lie to me, if you trusted me."

"Maker! I never lied, I just... kept some facts to myself." He looks irritated now too and I wonder if it's my anger feeding him.

"Don't you see, it's not just your lie of omission. You told me your father died even before your mother. Yet Maric died only four or five years ago and you said your mother died while giving birth to you! Andraste's arse, you're a lying bastard!" I storm ahead, eyes too full of tears to see where I'm going. Behind me I hear Alistair calling my name, then Leliana's voice interrupts.

"Leave her alone Alistair, you've hurt her enough for one day." The bard snaps, finally silencing him.


	7. Chapter 7

I always found it strange that Alistair didn't mind Bann Teagans open flirting, so I'm fixing that here. Sorry for the Alistair hate in the last two chapters, but the dialogue surrounding his birthright is pretty angsty. He's still the cute adorable Alistair really! Thanks once more to Aaliia for doing such a great job on betaing the last chapter and this one.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

As we approach Redcliffe village, a man guarding the bridge stops us. As I question him about Arl Eamon, Alistair moves closer and asks a few questions. I studiously ignore him, scoping out the town. I'm still annoyed with him for daring to be angry with me. He was the one who sprung this on me, surely I am allowed to be shocked? Why is he acting as if _I've_ lied to him?

We follow the man down to the Chantry below. The village itself looks devastated, buildings damaged, burning fences and blood, everywhere, blood splatters. A man named Murdock seems to be organizing a cleanup and I task Sten with helping.

"Please, can you work with Murdock to see how we can help? I'll go inside and meet this Teagan fellow."

They nod, taking some salves and bandages with them. Morrigan mutters to herself but I'm getting really good at ignoring her. Alistair folds his arms and doesn't move. I notice that he doesn't look me in the eye. "I'm coming with you. I know Teagan."

"Do what you want." I push open the Chantry doors and try to see in the gloom. I hear Alistair's armoured footsteps clanging behind me. At the far end, directing the commotion is a tall, handsome man dressed in fine clothing. I'm impressed at how he speaks to the people, his kindness in helping the children, his patience with an old lady. Eventually he turns to me, surprise on his face. I feel a fondness for him that I know is Alistair's, but it still makes me broaden my smile.

"Good day, my lady. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl." He bows his head politely, his blue eyes never leaving my face.

I blush slightly at his scrutiny, but raise my chin and respond. "Greetings Ser, I am Thessaly Cousland. We are here to..."

Alistair steps forward and interrupts me. "I remember you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met I was a lot younger and... covered in mud."

"Covered in mud? ...Alistair? It is you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news!" The Bann smiles, looking ten years younger and hugs Alistair, slapping his back.

I watch them as they talk about Loghain's betrayal of the King and Grey Wardens. Teagan informs us that Loghain is spreading the rumour that we abandoned the King and his death at Ostagar is our fault. It seems there is no end to Loghain's crimes.

I see the Bann's eyes drift towards me and he bows low. "So my Lady Cousland? You are a Grey Warden also? A pleasure to meet face to face finally - your father kept you from us. I only wish it were under better circumstances."

I curtsy back, ignoring Alistair's raised eyebrows. "The pleasure is mine, Ser. Your man Tomas led me to believe that you needed our help?"

Bann Teagan visibly relaxes, letting out a breath I hadn't realised he was holding. "My lady? You have time to help us? I... I did not dream that a Grey Warden such as yourself would..." He rubs a hand over his eyes. "The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil... things... surged from the castle. We have been driving them back, but many villagers have perished during the assault. Murdock and Ser Perth are co-ordinating the defence."

I place a hand on his arm, smiling. "Of course, Bann Teagan, we will offer what assistance we can. Alistair, could you speak to Ser Perth please?"

Alistair nods curtly and clanks away, his displeasure clear. Bann Teagan places his hand on mine, smiling. "Thank you! Thank you, this... means more to me than you can guess."

I shrug, embarrassed at his touch and my own lack of eloquence. He sees my discomfort and tugs my arm gently, pulling me to follow him. I fall into step beside him, my arm cradled against his.

"I beg your pardon, my lady, where are my manners? You must have been on the road for some time. Would you like to freshen up? Some food perhaps?"

My traitorous stomach rumbles at the thought of food, and Teagan laughs again. "I see the rumours regarding a Grey Warden's appetite are not exaggerated. Come, I have some food stored."

On the way, he calls to a young boy to heat some water and I am selfish enough not to turn down the thought of warm water. It seems a luxury confined to my old life.

"I hope there's food and water for all of my companions." I ask, pleased when Teagan affirms this is the case.

We talk about a great many things, from my short tenure as a Grey Warden to his lack of a wife. He is more sure of himself than Alistair, holding my arm as we walk, complimenting me on my manners and grace, but he is nervous about discussing his personal life.

I am shocked when he helps me organise the food for my companions. I never imagined a Bann would get involved with anything so demeaning, but he seems unaware of my astonishment. As we slice vegetables to fill an enormous stew pot, we discuss strategies for the coming battle. As he speaks, his care and concern over the village make me realise that this is exactly the kind of man my father would have wanted me to marry. I stare at his face, wondering if my father had ever considered Teagan as a match for me.

"Such domestic bliss. When's the wedding planned for?" A sarcastic voice interrupts my thoughts.

I jump guiltily as Alistair leans in the doorway. His broad shoulders fill the space and remind me of just how big he is. He is smiling, with his left eyebrow raised, but I can feel his barely hidden anger. It causes a physical pain in my chest to see him so distant.

"Scheduled for two weeks after the Archdemon dies. I think I may invite you." I say, lowering my hands so that he won't notice them tremble. His stance is menacing, his arms folded and his fingers clenched tight, knuckles white.

"Alistair! Really, how inappropriate. We were simply preparing food for you all." Bann Teagan has the grace to blush, but Alistair's eyes haven't left my face, the sarcastic smile fixed and unmoving.

"Did you want something?" I look down at the carrot in my hands and hack at it, taking out my fresh anger on the poor vegetable. Take that Prince Alistair!

"We could do with your help organising the battle. Your... ah... well, your strategic thinking is better than mine. Sten's getting grumpy." He shifts his weight from foot to foot.

"When _isn't_ Sten grumpy?" I stab the carrot once more, than lay it aside with a sigh. "Excuse me please, Ser. It seems my skills, such as they are, are needed elsewhere."

"Do not forget, my lady. I promised you a hot bath, and I insist that you shall have it." Teagan says innocently. I feel Alistair's glare and wonder how innocent it sounded to him. He storms off and I follow. He doesn't turn or slow and I have to shout his name twice before he grudgingly stops.

"Alistair. I'm sorry about earlier. I was surprised and a little hurt that it seemed you didn't trust me, but I didn't ever mean to upset you. I apologize." I step closer, but he backs away, his sardonic smile still in place. His eyes are on the floor, but he does answer.

"You do? What do you know, wishes really do come true, sometimes." He smirks, his hands clenched at his sides.

I blink a couple of times, trying not to let his anger influence me. "Please, I _mean_ it. I hope you can forgive me."

"How could I not? You're too pretty not to forgive. Consider it forgotten." His fake smile is still there as he steps away.

I press my fist to my mouth to stifle the sob, but he hears me and turns back, his face suddenly anxious. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a couple of deep breaths.

"Maker's breath, I'm being _such_ an ass. I'm so sorry, Thess. Of course I forgive you. I should be the one begging _you_ to forgive me! I'm so stupid… I just want you to like me for _me_."

I shake my head and tilt my head back, willing the tears away as they spill down my cheeks. I don't want him to see me like this, pathetic and weak. I try to wipe them away with my sleeve, as Alistair hands me a grubby handkerchief. The rag is so filthy, it makes me laugh through my tears, and Alistair just looks at it and starts to chuckle too.

"When you are done with the fool, we have a battle to prepare for." Sten's rumbling voice makes me jump. The annoyed expression on his face brings on another bout of giggles and soon Alistair and I are bent double, howling with the hilarity of it.

"Vashedan. I am surrounded by idiots." Sten stomps away.

This only makes us laugh even harder, happy tears streaming down our faces.

#

The battle itself is tough. If it was just my companions and I, I wouldn't worry, but there are _people_ everywhere. A few are trained soldiers, but most are townsfolk with pitchforks and no idea how to fight. Alistair and I focus on keeping them alive, while Sten, Leliana and Loki rip the attackers apart.

We need to rip them apart, because they're undead. I've seen some strange things on the road, but never an invasion of undead skeletons. They pour out of the castle, flooding down towards the town. Alistair's idea of burning oil has helped and we manage to hold them off after five hours of continuous fighting.

We're mostly okay. None of the villagers died, but I have a huge cut on my thigh and others have scrapes and bruises. Alistair supports me as I limp into the Chantry, wincing with every step. Alistair tried to carry me, but I pointed to his own bruises and kept walking.

Bann Teagan is just inside the doors, helping a child, when he sees me enter. He rushes over and scoops me up, armour and all. I'm surprised, he doesn't look that strong under his fine clothing and I'm a tall girl wearing a full suit of armour. He bends his head to examine the wound on my leg.

"My lady! What's happened? Let me take you to my temporary bedroom. We can bathe and dress the wound there." I look over Teagan's shoulder as Alistair pauses in the doorway. I wave my hand at him to follow, but he turns away, his expression dark.

I blush as Teagan carefully removes my armour, draping me with a sheet for my modesty. The Revered Mother comes to dress the wound, her expression disapproving. Teagan ignores her, however, and hovers in the room, helping if he can.

The injury is deep, but she manages to staunch the bleeding without me wincing too much. As the last bandage is tied, I try to stand, before realising I'm sitting under a sheet in my smallclothes.

"Bann Teagan, do you think I may borrow some clothes? Just until I can fix the rent in my armour?" I indicate my state of undress with an awkward wave of my hand.

"Call me Teagan, please. And your armour is already with Owen, he'll fix it for you. Excuse me one moment while I find you something to wear." He disappears.

The priest tuts at me as she clears away her bandages, but as soon as she leaves, I use the peace to wash in the lukewarm water. Bliss.

"Ahem." Teagan stands in the doorway, his eyes closed, holding out a red dress. I snag it and haul it over my head quickly. It's a little tight and the sleeves are longer than I'm used to, but I don't worry about the style so much as not being unclothed. I hold the long hem in one hand so I don't trip over it.

"Thank you, Bann... Teagan, I mean." I tug at the neckline of the bodice, trying to pull it higher, but it seems determined to show my chest off. All the corsetry and rigging underneath does _not_ help.

Teagan opens his eyes and blinks for a moment at the sight I present, before politely holding out his arm again. "Are you ready, my lady? The entire village waits to thank you."

I take his arm and he escorts me down the corridor. There is a loud noise in the Chantry, murmuring and laughing. I feel nervous. I might have fought darkspawn and monsters, but speaking in front of a crowd? Not really how I'd planned to spend this dawn. I drag my feet, Teagan practically pulling me into the room. He laughs as he does so, patting my hand.

From the back of the room, I feel him. Alistair is standing in the shadows, but I can feel his stare. I don't really listen as Teagan speaks, praising my name, thanking me for the deeds.

"We all thank the Maker for your arrival, my lady. I feel blessed that someone so beautiful, noble and brave chose to help us." Teagan presses my hand, but I'm holding Alistair's dark gaze and barely feel it.

I smile, nod and wave at the right moments, but I long to be away from this crowd. Hands reach out, pressing against mine, kissing my arms, pulling at my dress to bless me, but eventually they let me pass. Even Teagan has to let go of my arm to focus on his villagers.

Leliana waves, but I scurry past, leaving her with her group of admiring men. I push my way to the back of the room, but he's not there. I close my eyes and focus - outside, near the water. No-one notices me slip outside, skirting around the piles of darkspawn corpses in my bare feet. I hold the long dress up with one hand, not wanting the soft fabric to trail through the puddles of blood.

Alistair stands on the docks by Lake Calenhad as dawns pink tendrils creep up the sky. He looks lost, his arms at his sides and his head low. I cross the planks to join him, my bare feet making almost no sound. He knows I'm with him though, I can see it in the tension in his shoulders. I stop in front of him and tug his chin up. He looks at me, taking in the red dress with the plunging neckline and tight bodice.

"I can see why Teagan is so taken with you." He says quietly, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear. I catch his hand and press it against my lips. His emotions are so confusing, I have no idea what he's thinking. It's frustrating.

"Well, it's a shame for the Bann that I am already spoken for." I try to kiss his hand again, but he pulls it back gently, shaking his head.

"That's not true though, is it? Not really. We kind of stumbled into this... whatever this is... as a way to cope with everything. All the death and tragedy. It's not like we had a choice, it's not like our dreams are real." He looks at the light creeping up the sky. "I'd like to be alone. Please."

I blink a couple of times, determined that he would not see my tears again today. "As you wish. I'll be just inside if you need me."

As I step off the docks, onto the earth, I hear him speaking softly.

"I think I prefer you in armour." He murmurs, seemingly to the sun.

I look down at the dress, ridiculously tight, low cut. I feel foolish and cross my arms around my stomach. "Oh, really?" I manage.

"Don't get me wrong. You look more beautiful in that dress than any woman has a right to look. But I prefer you to be happy and comfortable. Which you're not." He turns his head and smiles crookedly at me. "Go on, I'll be in soon."

It's only as I head inside that I untangle the dominant emotions. He's unhappy and his confidence is low. He's standing there, upset and alone, and he wants me to leave.

I remember my promise to Duncan that I would never hurt him and silent tears spill down my cheeks as I enter the Chantry once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Hope you've been enjoying the lovely Bann Teagan, but now we're due some Alistair time. Thanks as usual to Aaliia for the beta and the discussions on where the story is going.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

The celebrations are still in full swing, I see Leliana has lost her admiring men, replacing them with a group of young women. She's probably conspiring to do their hair. I can't see Sten and Morrigan, so they'll be back at the camp outside on the cliffs, huddled together complaining as usual.

Teagan sees me and pushes through the crowd to my side, his face lighting up. I smile weakly at him and cover my mouth with a hand as I yawn delicately.

"Apologies, Ser Teagan. I'm afraid after all the fighting, I could do with some rest. We still have to get into the castle tomorrow."

"Of course, my lady. I'm sorry, I'm being thoughtless. Follow me." Teagan once more pulls my arm into his and guides me through the Chantry to his makeshift bedroom.

"Was Alistair alright when you spoke? He seemed... unhappy." Teagan watches my face.

'The Bann is more perceptive than you realised.,' I think, forcing a fake smile. "We talked about his... ah... real father, just before we arrived."

"Alistair told you? Really?" Teagan's mouth falls open in surprise. "By the Maker, the two of you must be close. I've never known him to tell anyone before. When he lived here in the stables, he always used Eamon's orphan excuse."

"Yes, I have heard that one." I answer automatically. "But, wait, _stables_?"

Teagan drops my arm and closes the door. He doesn't turn to face me, but stands with his back to me. "Yes. When Eamon was asked to look after Alistair, he wasn't raised as the Arl's son. He lived in the stables, slept in the hayloft."

"He lived in the _stables_? Are you serious?" I hear my voice grow shrewish, but I don't care. "What kind of man does that to a boy? Maker, that explains so much. No wonder he..." I stop and think about Alistair, his lack of confidence, his fear of rejection and how he hides his true feelings behind a shield of humour.

Teagan turns to face me, his cheeks blazing with shame. "I know it sounds... bad. But my brother had his reputation to consider. Especially with a new wife. I... I admit I wasn't happy about the arrangements myself, but Alistair seemed contented enough."

I can't think about this now, it's upsetting me and my heart aches at Alistair's treatment. But it's not Bann Teagan's fault and I let out a deep sigh. "What's done is done, I suppose. However, I am glad to hear that you weren't happy about it, Ser. I'm sorry if I sounded rude, I'm afraid I am tired."

"I understand my lady. Sleep well, we have a long day ahead of us." Teagan backs out of the room, pulling the door tight behind him. I struggle out of the red dress and hang it over a chair. Somehow I've managed to not rip it or cover it in blood and I wonder if I should ask Teagan if I can keep it.

Teagan's bed smells of cinnamon and apples, a much sweeter smell than Alistair's scent, but it just makes me long for him. I close my eyes and pray to Andraste that he is sleeping too.

#

The Fade is darker than usual, seemingly affected by Alistair's mood. He looks so sad, sitting on a rocky outcropping, a swirling mist around him. He is bare-chested and shivering, looking out at the pale violet sky. I find that I have a blossoming rose in my hand, which I tuck into my hair with a smile. I summon the red dress just as he turns to greet me.

His eyes look darker than normal, with black circles beneath them. I kneel in front of him and put a hand on his knee. He smiles sadly at me and strokes my cheek. His calloused fingers catch on my skin and I know of no other feeling half as good.

"This isn't real, Thess. You're only here because of the circumstances. It's not your choice. It's not love." His voice cracks on the last word.

"Instead of thinking that it is just the circumstances that have brought us together, isn't a better word fate? Or destiny?" I plead. "Duncan told me he believed in _us_, that we were destined to be heroes. Together."

"Duncan said that?" Some of the life returns to his eyes.

I sit back on my heels and hold my arms out to him, palms open, extended. I can see the emotions flicking across his face and I whisper. "Please."

He exhales and drops to his knees, his arms wrapping around my waist. My heart gallops in my chest as I hug him tightly. I speak softly, my lips so close to his cheek he must be able to feel my breath.

"Duncan believed in us. I need you to believe as well." I sigh, stroking the back of his neck with my fingers, pulling his face nearer.

"Maker knows, I do." And his lips are hovering next to mine, his hands running up my back, pulling me closer to him. I run my fingers through his hair, trying to encourage him. His eyes are intent on my face, his hands trembling. "Can you ever forgive my stupidity? I promise that I will always believe in you, follow you faithfully and maybe look rather dashing while I'm at it?

"Oh, Alistair." The look he is giving me makes me melt inside, the love and faith literally drowning me in sensations. After my conversation with Teagan, I finally understand how hard it is for him to trust me, for him to show his need. I think about Duncan's warning that if Alistair did fall in love, he would commit himself to me body and soul. I see in his eyes that he is ready to take that final step. I only hope I can live up to it.

He leans in slowly and I instinctively tilt my head back. He kisses me without hesitation, not a timid kiss like I'd given him before, but full of fire and passion. His lips press against mine as he takes my face in his hands, his tongue sliding into my mouth. The taste of him intoxicates me and I lose the ability to think.

Our breathing starts to labour, each kiss more insistent than the last. I gasp quietly into his mouth as one of his hands presses against the small of my back, crushing me to him. His hands blaze a trail along my back as our bodies melt into each other. I want nothing more than to lie down with him beside me, but I know that this isn't yet the right time. We're both breathless and I'm surprised at how warm I feel, his every touch burning my skin.

I pull away from his kiss for a moment and stroke my fingers down his cheek. He grasps a handful of the dress and looks down.

"I was wrong about the dress. Maker, you look gorgeous." He smiles, kissing my forehead, his breathing uneven.

"You're not so bad looking yourself." I tease, taking another deep breath. I stroke his cheek once more, enjoying the feeling of his stubble against my fingertips, how soft his throat is.

"What, surely I'm the handsomest man you've ever seen!" He grabs my hand and mock bites it, growling.

"Be fair, Alistair! I haven't seen _all_ the men on Thedas yet, there might be one or two who are a shade more handsome than you." I'm entranced by his soft lips nibbling my fingers.

"Do you know, I was the most feared tickler amongst the other Templars? Would you like to find out just how good I am?" He arches an eyebrow and lowers his voice seductively.

"I would _love_ to find out just how good you are anytime you like, Ser Knight." I laugh as he blushes a little and drops his eyes to kiss my hand again. "I'm glad you are here, I was worried you might not sleep."

"Believe me, I wasn't planning on sleeping, but then Sten and Morrigan started flirting, urgh. I had to get away... I'm glad I did." Alistair moves, lifting me onto his knee as he sits on the rocky outcropping. I curl my fingers in his hair and lay my head on his chest.

"Let me ask you something. I'm wondering, well, about Teagan, really. It seems like the two of you have a lot in common... all this nobility stuff, and the vegetable peeling and the debonair older man thing..." His voice is light, but I hear the fear and jealousy lurking.

"It's true that Bann Teagan is exactly the sort of man my father would have picked for me to marry. But I make my own choices and I chose you." I look into his golden brown eyes, hoping he can feel how much I need him.

"You mean you prefer some King's unwanted bastard instead of a rich, handsome noble with his own lands? Your taste is appalling, my dear."

"Lucky for you really!" I giggle. He tightens his arms around me and kisses my forehead.

"I'm hoping that we might see the Arl tomorrow. He has the power and the popularity to take Loghain at the Landsmeet. Then this... thing hanging over my future will be gone and no-one will care about my birthright." He says. I run my fingers through his hair, wanting to believe him, but I doubt it will be that easy.

"I wish I was in camp too. I love waking up with you." I murmur against his neck. I feel his fingers touch the rose in my hair and I smile.

"Where did you sleep? The Chantry?" I hear some of the tightness return to his voice. "Teagan's bed?"

"I'm asleep alone in a spare bed in the Chantry, dreaming of you." I kiss his nose, trying to make him smile. "Race you when we wake up, see who finds each other first?"

"Oh, I'll find you first. There's something I _need_ to do." His voice drops low and a shiver runs up my spine as his lips move closer. "You'll see."

I jerk awake, the sun bright in the room. My armour is still missing, so I wriggle into the red dress again and untangle my hair as well as I can with my fingers. I wash my face and luxuriate in the cinnamon mouth wash. Padding out into the Chantry, the stone flagging cold on my bare feet. All of the refugees are gone, only the Bann is still inside, talking to the priestess.

I'm about to pass them as the Chantry door bursts open, the wood slamming against the stone archway. Alistair's broad form fills the doorway, the sun silhouetting him as the sound echoes around the high ceiling.

"Alistair?" I pause as he stalks slowly and deliberately across the floor, his plate boots clanking, his pauldrons making him seem even taller. He drops his helmet and gloves behind him with a clang and stops in front of me. The sunlight pours in through the door behind him so I still can't see his face.

"My lady." He moves forward quickly, graceful as always, pulling me against his chest. His arms tighten and lift me off my feet as his lips crush against my own. I raise my arms automatically and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. He trails a hand down my cheek, pausing to caress my neck. He follows his hand with his lips, flicking like a butterfly down my throat to the scooped neckline of the dress.

He releases me by loosening his grasp and sliding me gently to the floor. As I pull back, I see a contented smile spread across his face, his eyes twinkling.

"Mine." He whispers, his arms still holding me close. I can feel the satisfaction radiating off him and I understand why when he speaks again.

"Good _morning_, Teagan!" He calls out brightly. I turn, my embarrassed face pressed to his chestplate. The Revered Mother stands open mouthed while Teagan has crossed his arms.

"Good morning Alistair, Thessaly. I'm sorry, I... I hadn't realised..."

"Neither had I, because _I_ was an idiot. Not any more." Alistair squeezes me close, his eyes blazing. He kisses the tip of my nose, then looks up at Teagan. "But I understand we're off to the castle to see Eamon? Leliana is waiting outside with the Mabari. Do you have a plan, Teagan?"

"My first plan is to get my armour back." I mutter, avoiding Teagan's questioning eyes.

"Owen has delivered it for you my lady, I'll have someone bring it. One of the ladies even repaired the buckles on your leather garments. Once you're ready, please meet me at the mill and we can discuss our further plans?" Teagan walks past us out of the Chantry and I whirl to face Alistair.

"You did that on purpose! And you've got your armour on so I can't hit you!" I laugh, slapping at his chest lightly. His face crinkles with delight.

"Was it very naughty? Am I a bad, bad man?" He grins at me. The Priestess behind us tuts loudly and walks away, leaving us giggling like children, arms still tight around each other.

#

Teagan has just explained his plan, entering the castle via a secret passage through the windmill, when a woman runs towards us, waving her arms frantically.

"Teagan! Thank the Maker you're alive!" Her Orlesian accent makes me realise that this must be the lady Isolde. The woman who sent Alistair away. She is a little older than Teagan, probably once a stunning beauty, but now she's reduced to wearing tight corsets and a lot of makeup to look pretty.

She grabs Teagan's arm and hugs him tightly, her expression grim.

"Isolde? What has happened, how did you get out?" Teagan looks over her head to me, a frown darkening his face.

"I do not have time to explain. I must return quickly, and I need you to return with me, Teagan. Alone." Her eyes drift across to me with a frown.

"Careful, Teagan, this could be an ambush." I wonder how she got out of the castle, if monsters were everywhere.

"What? I... who is this... this woman, Teagan?" She glares at me and continues to hang onto his arm, far closer than I would expect a sister-in-law to be.

Alistair steps forward and sighs. "You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?"

"Alistair!" She hisses his name. "Of all the... why are _you_ here?"

"Alistair and the Lady Thessaly are Grey Wardens. I owe them my life. But Isolde, we had no idea anyone was even alive. We must have some answers." Teagan asks.

"I know you need more of an explanation, but I... don't know what is safe to tell. There is a terrible evil within the castle. I think Connor is going mad... we have survived but he won't flee the castle. You must help him, Teagan! You are his Uncle."

She spends some time explaining what has gone on, blood mages, undead monsters and everyone dead. But she refuses to tell us everything and won't take anyone with her but Bann Teagan. I know she's hiding something important from us, but Teagan agrees to her request, as he feels we don't have a choice. He asks Isolde to wait for him by the bridge while he explains how to use the secret passage in the windmill. I'm really unhappy with this plan, but he won't listen to reason.

"If you have to, just get Eamon out of there. Isolde, me, we're expendable." Teagan places a hand on my arm. "The Arl can help you with Loghain."

"I don't believe that you're expendable. I will rescue you, I promise." I embrace him quickly, mindful of both Isolde and Alistair's gaze.

"You are brave as well as beautiful it seems. The Maker smiled on me indeed, when he sent you to Redcliffe. Alistair is a lucky man." Teagan shakes Alistair's hand, and turns to follow Isolde back into the castle.

He has no weapons, no armour and has been told that everyone else inside has been slaughtered. He's going to die.

* * *

Sorry for the short chapter. I wanted to get to Connor, but ran out of time today. That'll be in the next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you all for your really kind reviews. I'm afraid after I've managed a chapter a workday up to now, I'll need a short break for Christmas. There's an extra long chapter below to make up for it! Thanks as always to Aaliia for the incredible beta-ing and the helpful discussions

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The secret entrance isn't that secret - a trapdoor inside the windmill - but I need the Bann's signet ring to open the lock. Alistair has to haul on the trapdoor for a moment before it finally cracks, a squeal of rust and swollen wood making it clear how unused it is.

Alistair takes point, with Leliana holding the rear, bow in hand. My leg doesn't hurt that much, but I do notice the wound rubbing against my armour. I keep Loki close, so he can help me if needed. The passage is long and dark, full of bundles of litter, rags and old bones.

As we get closer to the castle, there are a few fresh corpses lying around. It seems as though some of the castle inhabitants tried to escape, but didn't make it very far. Leliana cries quietly as we walk, humming the Chant of Light over their bodies as we pass.

It feels like we must be close when a scraping noise alerts us to danger. Alistair pushes me against the wall, shield held high. With a groan, a few of the corpses around us push themselves upright. They stagger towards us, undead, unthinking and Alistair easily cuts them down, smashing them to the ground with his shield then decapitating them.

But as he looks down on the corpses, the colour drains from his face. "The uniforms, these men, they're the castle guards."

I squeeze his shoulder and am about to reply when a querulous voice shouts. "Hello? Who's' there? Is there anyone alive out there?"

I move past Alistair and see that a prison cell holds a dark-haired man, dressed in a purple and blue mage robe. He's tall and skinny, with the pale look of someone who has spent their life trapped inside a tower.

"You don't look like the Arlessa's guards. Are you from outside?" He steps forward, grabbing the bars.

"Are you the mage Lady Isolde mentioned? She said you were the cause of all... this..." I sweep my arm to indicate the re-animated corpses we have just fought.

"My name is Jowan. I was hired to tutor her son Connor. But they found that I was poisoning the Arl and I was thrown in here."

"Why?" Alistair steps forward, his sword rising. I place my palm on his chest and press him back gently.

Jowan looks from Alistair to me, before speaking quickly. "I was ordered to by Teyrn Loghain. He told me Eamon was a traitor and it was for the good of Ferelden. He said he'd sort things with the Circle for me. Because... well, because I'm a blood mage."

Alistair snorts and lowers his sword. "Okay, that's not good."

Jowan grips the bars more tightly, his fingers white. "But he's abandoned me. Everything has fallen apart and I'm responsible!" He wails.

"But why did Isolde need a mage to tutor Connor?" Alistair asks.

"Connor showed... signs. The Arlessa didn't want him taken away by the circle, so she sought an apostate to teach her son in secret. Isolde had no idea when I was hired that Loghain wanted me to poison the Arl. But I'm not responsible for the creatures and killings. This started after I was thrown in here! Give me a chance to help, please."

I rub my forehead. "How can you possibly help?"

"I have magic, I could try and help the survivors. Perhaps figure out what's causing all this. Please. Let me try to fix some of this mess."

Leliana steps forward, her face shining. "Oh please, Thessaly. Everyone deserves a second chance."

I look at Alistair's face and see the fear and anger there. "He has _blood_ magic. How can that help?" He spits out.

I rub my head once more time then drop my hand with a sigh. "I'll let you out, but you must follow behind us and help."

"I hope you know what you're doing. Blood magic is _never_ a good thing." Alistair takes my hand as Leliana picks the lock. "I know you've not had much experience with maleficarum, but believe me, they're dangerous. Take care."

Jowan sticks close behind us, never casting a spell as we work our way through the castle. There are undead everywhere, in servants clothing or guard uniforms. It's clear that most of the castle inhabitants are dead. Alistair and I fight together, side by side. My leg aches, but I ignore it, focusing on the glorious speed and grace we share.

As we're close to the main hall, a giant monster rips itself from the earth. Over seven feet high, this undead being is nothing like the ones we've seen before. A cold mist swirls around the thin form, it's face hidden behind a skeletal mask.

"By the maker, a revenant!" Jowan gasps, his hands held up casting a warding spell.

Alistair doesn't even pause. He charges in front of us all, protecting us with his body. He bellows at it, smashing his shield against it again and again. The beast lets out a high pitched screech as it casts spells and swings as us with a huge blade. I'm reminded once again of Alistair's superior strength and experience as he batters the revenant to the ground, leaving only a smoking pile of rags.

As he stands, panting, blood running down his arm, I hear shouting at the portcullis behind. Ser Perth is ready with a group of soldiers to reinforce us and help find the Arl. Leliana opens the gate and we plan our final assault.

It's surprisingly easy to get inside. It seems most of the undead were outside the castle, killed as they fled. We hear sounds of merriment and laughing up ahead, and I motion for Ser Perth to wait behind.

The Lady Isolde stands in front of a blazing fireplace, her shoulders slumped as she watches Bann Teagan. Teagan is dancing and rolling, seemingly trying to amuse the young boy who stands next to Isolde. Connor is clapping cheerfully, but there's something malicious in his gaze. A smattering of guards stand as if paralyzed behind them.

"So these are the ones you told me about, Mother?" The child's voice sounds wrong, as if there is another, older voice speaking at the same time, a harsh dissonance in his tone. Bann Teagan chuckles to himself and settles at the boys feet, his eyes blank.

Isolde spares us a glance, before casting her eyes to the stone floor. "Y-yes, Connor."

"You never told me she was so beautiful Mother. That explains your jealousy, now that you're so old." The boy continues. I've never seen someone possessed by a demon before, but as he continues to threaten us, it's clear Connor himself is not in control.

"What have you done to Teagan?" I walk slowly towards the boy, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the strange sulphurous stench surrounding him.

"Here I am! Here I am! Ha-ha!" Teagan laughs, his mouth smiling. But his face is still curiously blank and he sags back down like a puppet with its strings cut.

Isolde is crying and begging me to be merciful, while the boy rants about sending out armies to conquer the world. I feel paralyzed with indecision. This isn't as simple as a darkspawn ambush, this is a mere child, clearly possessed by a demon. But that demon has slaughtered a castle full of people. The boy works himself into a frenzy, screaming, and suddenly the guards attack.

Alistair charges to the front, trying to get the attention of the six guards. Bann Teagan stands up slowly, his eyes fixed on Connor.

"Excitement... action..." I hear him say, before he turns to me, bellowing a war cry. He grabs a sword from the floor and starts swinging it in wide sweeps. His actions are jerky and uncoordinated, but he's a strong man and I have to leap back to avoid the blade.

I try to parry his blows carefully. He has no armour and is already bloodied and bruised. I can see Set Perth worrying, edging closer, so I flip my sword around and slam the pommel into Teagan's forehead. He drops to my feet in a heap with a sigh.

As the final guard falls Connor shrieks in rage and runs out of the room. Alistair wipes the blood off his face and looks at Teagan's collapsed body.

"Are you okay?" He shouts, his sword dripping. I nod once, looking at the door Connor fled through.

"Leliana - bolt that door, now!" I point, watching the little red-head scurry to do as I bid.

Teagan groans, and I pull him to his feet. Isolde throws herself into his arms, sobbing.

"Teagan, are you alright? Blessed Andraste! I would never have forgiven myself if you had died, not after I brought you here."

"There's a castle full of corpses, if you're feeling the need to take any blame." I snap. I feel Alistair come to stand by my shoulder. I hear his breath hiss at my words, but I let the anger flow. "What were you thinking? Hiring an apostate to teach your son!"

"What... no... please. I know this is all my fault, but Connor, he's just a boy, he can be saved."

I listen to the discussion with dismay, Jowan and Isolde blaming each other for what happened, why everyone died. Teagan and Alistair keep circling the fact that the boy is an abomination and that there is nothing to be done. I can hardly think straight but I know there is no way I want to be the one condemning a child of Oren's age to die because of his mothers foolish mistakes. Then Jowan suggests blood magic and human sacrifice and I know I need a break.

"Teagan, let me dress those wounds." I point to a chair nearby and pull some bandages from my pack.

He looks like he's going to argue, but changes his mind and follows me. I can feel his eyes on me as I kneel by his side but I don't look up. Once he's seated, I find that most of the cuts are superficial. I'm concentrating on a shallow cut on his wrist when he speaks.

"I'm happy for you. Alistair is a wonderful person."

I pull a heavy gold ring with the seal of Redcliffe out of my pocket and hold it out to him. His blue eyes crinkle into a sad smile.

"Perhaps, in another world where we had met first, I might ask you to keep that ring." He says softly.

I smile and drop it into his palm. "Perhaps. I might even say yes."

We both laugh a little as he takes it back, sliding his signet ring onto his left hand. I hear Alistair's clanking footsteps approaching, probably intrigued by our discussion.

"Here, I found this earlier in the study. Give it to Alistair later, he'll know what it is." Teagan thrusts something small into my hand, then mimes tucking it into his pocket.

I close my fingers around it and slide it away.

"Are you well, Teagan?" Alistair asks. When Teagan nods, Alistair turns his eyes to me with his left eyebrow raised.

"I'm fine. I just... I don't know what to do, Alistair. Connor is just a boy. I like the idea of travelling to the Circle, but we'll put these last survivors lives in more danger if we do that."

"Don't worry about us, my lady. If you think that's the best course of action, please take it." Teagan pats my hand reassuringly, but the weight of responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders. So many choices.

"Yes, it's preferable to blood magic. That would just be adding more evil to this mess. Two wrongs don't make a right." Alistair pulls me to my feet, his expression pleading. "The Circle isn't far from here. Plenty of mages and lyrium."

"You're right. It's the only option. Jowan can stay here and help if there are any problems. Can you keep an eye on him, Teagan?"

Teagan nods, and we return to tell Isolde the decision. She is effusive with her thanks, crying and trying to hug me as I prepare to leave.

"Thank you, Thessaly. He's just a boy. None of this is his fault." She cries.

"Know this, Lady Isolde. I do not do this for you, I am doing this for Connor. After the way you treated Alistair, I owe you _nothing_. He was just a boy, too and remember how you treated him."

Her hands drop to her sides and her mouth hangs open in surprise. As the main doors slam closed behind me, Alistair grabs me into his arms and swings me around, laughing loudly in my ear.

"Remind me never to make you angry with me again, my lady. I thought you were going to run her through with your sword then and there!" He drops me back down, his smile radiant.

"Well," I grumble, kicking at a loose stone. "I don't like her. She was mean to you."

Alistair doesn't say any more, but I can see from the relaxed way he walks that he's in a wonderful mood. He throws sticks for Loki and hums to himself. Leliana keeps me company on the short journey around the lake, asking about the red dress and what I thought of Teagan and chattering on about how Lady Isolde did her hair. It's mindless drivel, but after the stress of the last few hours, I relax and enjoy listening to her talking.

We stop for lunch and Leliana finally drifts away to take Loki for a drink of water. Alistair slides a little closer to me and lays his head in my lap.

"Thank you for trying this option. There's been so much death and destruction, it... well, it makes me feel good that we're trying to save something. I owe the Arl that much." His golden brown eyes burn into me. Amber. I think. They're the colour of amber.

"Thank me when we're successful." I stroke his forehead, brushing the stray hair away from his eyes. "Oh, wait. I have something for you." I fish inside my armour.

"Your gift is inside your breastplate? Maker's breath, I am a lucky man." He grins at me. I bat at his own metal chest with my other hand and he chuckles.

"Here, this is for you." I pull it out of my pocket and drop it into his palm.

He looks down at the small necklace in his hand and sits up. "This... this is my mother's amulet. It has to be. But why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?"

"Teagan gave it to me, from the study, he said." I watch the expressions flitting across his face, feeling his wonder and joy wash over me. It feels so good to know he's happy, I must remember to thank Teagan properly for this.

"The Arl's study? Then he must have found it and repaired it. I don't understand, why would he do that?" He strokes it gently with his thumb.

"Maybe he meant to give it back to you?" I wrap an arm around his shoulder and lean on him.

"Maybe he did. He might have even brought it with him one of those times he came to see me at the monastery... not that I would have given him a chance, as belligerent as I was to him. Thank you. I thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity. Did you remember me mentioning it? I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things."

"Oh Alistair, of course I remembered. You're special to me." I catch his chin and press my lips against his quickly. I see him close his eyes and lean closer, his lips parting ready for a deeper kiss.

"I also remember a promise of you showing me some _interesting-looking_ moles. I'll have to take you up on that sometime soon." I whisper against his lips.

He bursts out laughing and wraps one arm around me, wiggling his other hand in my face. "I see how it is, you're just begging to be tickled right, that's what I just heard you say. _Oh please introduce me to tickle master Alistair_..."

"Ahem." Leliana looks shocked. Her hands are balled into fists and her face is screwed up. "Don't let me interrupt you."

"We were just talking about.. ummm... ah...." Alistair drops his hands away from me, blushing.

"Strategy!" I finish, standing up and brushing at the loose grass.

"Yes, I see. Your tickling strategy. _Most_ useful for fighting an abomination." It's unusual to hear such dry disapproval from the bard, so I spend the final part of the journey talking to her, to try and cheer her up. She finally relents when I promise to let her braid my hair later.

After everything else that has happened, I really shouldn't be surprised. But of course, I am. The Circle cannot help us because the Circle is in chaos. There are abominations running rampant and the Templars won't let anyone out.

After pleading with their leader, Greagoir, to let me inside, we find ourselves locked in the tower. I've ordered Loki to wait outside, to carry a message back to camp if need be.

It's strange inside the Circle. Even after we meet Wynne, the mage from Ostagar, I feel a little lost. I've not really come across magic to the same degree as Alistair and I feel weak and a little stupid fighting against it. As much as he says he hates to lead, he does an amazing job of calling out targets, telling me how to kill the strange creatures we find and keeping us alive. His courage and discipline when facing down multiple powerful creatures is an inspiration.

The real revelation for me is on the Templar's floor. When I see how easily they succumb to a desire demon, how these poor men are kept alone and unloved, separated from the mages around them as if the Templars were but cattle herders. I cannot imagine the life of either the imprisoned mages or their equally trapped keepers.

I look at Alistair as he slices into the desire demon and realise that it could so easily have been him standing there, enthralled. What would have become of this wonderful man if he'd spent more of his life in the Chantry or had to supervise the hunting and killing of mages? I close my eyes for a moment and thank Duncan for everything.

We're almost the top of the tower when I meet my first Sloth demon. "Can't you think about someone other than yourself? I'm hurt, so very, very hurt." It drawls, before sending us all into the Fade.

I imagine if I hadn't been living half my life in the Fade recently, I'd feel more disorientated. But as it is, I find myself enjoying the puzzles the demon has laid for me. I charge around the mazes, using the skills of those trapped before me as my own. I finally understand the glorious and painful power of magic as I hurl fireballs at my enemies, feeling the heat and the destruction flowing from me. _These_ will be hard to give up.

It feels like I've spent days in here and I'm flagging, but Niall assures me that if I find my companions, I should be able to reach Sloth. Wynne and Leliana are both easily disconnected from their dreams and I go through the final portal for Alistair.

And I'm so shocked, I don't know what to do. First, he has a sister he's never mentioned. Goldanna. Another secret. And that revelation is swiftly followed by him telling me he's happier than he's been his entire life. Happier than with the Grey Wardens. Happier than with _me_.

I actually feel cruel, prodding him to remember that he is trapped in the Fade.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Don't tell anyone how easily fooled I am." He smiles as he disappears.

And finally, I get to take my anger out on Sloth. It deliberately showed me that Alistair is happier with some half-sister than with me? The foolish demon. It twists and turns, constantly healing and transforming itself, but I eventually batter it into submission with a mixture of spells and sheer rage. I feel the magic draining away and sigh. I'd gladly swap my greatsword for a few fireballs any day.

We don't talk about the dreams, it's too soon and we're so close. Alistair leads on and I find out that I am right about the Templars.

Templar Cullen sits alone beside the stairs to the top floor. He's trapped in a bubble, reliving his dreams about a beautiful mage that he's obviously obsessed with. He looks young, barely out of his teens, I can't imagine the life of loneliness he has ahead of him. He's so confused, unsure of what is real and what is just fantasy. I see a bit of Alistair in him and my heart breaks a little to leave him behind.

Wynne manages to hold up well, even when fighting one of her own turned abomination. Uldred has no qualms about destroying his fellow mages, his blood magic tearing them apart to feed his own frenzy. Eventually Alistair and I hack him down, Wynne's cooling healing spells helping us fight through our fatigue and wounds.

It feels like days, but it's barely hours since we entered the tower and we escort First Enchanter Irving back to Greagior. The young templar Cullen tries to say that all of the surviving mages are possessed, but luckily Greagior listens to reason and allows them to live. Poor Cullen looks lost, and I wonder what will become of him. Wynne even talks Irving into letting her follow us to help fight the darkspawn.

And somehow, Irving agrees to both honour the Grey Warden's treaty and to come help Connor. For the first time since my joining, I feel like I'm a real Grey Warden. I'm helping people and we're on the right path to ending the Blight.

But the happiness doesn't last. I am standing outside the tower, looking down over the lake when Alistair finds me. I don't say anything, but I know he feels my sadness and is confused by it.

"I'm sorry, I know I should be inside with you all, being happy, but... " I sigh and lean against him, hiding my face from his questioning eyes.

"I will always find you, especially when you're sad." His voice rumbles through my ear as I press myself against his cold metal chestplate. "Tell me."

"It was, well, your Fade dream. It was strange, you having a sister... no wait... let me finish... I don't mind not knowing that. Truly. What pains me now is that you told me you'd never been happy before, that your family was the only thing that has..."

And of all the reactions I expect from him, laughter isn't one of them. I slap at his chest in annoyance but he laughs harder and tightens his arms. "Thess, honestly. If you'd seen what I'd been dreaming five minutes before... well..."

"What?" I frown.

I'm even more intrigued when a red flush creeps up his cheeks. "Well, it was us, just, you know, like now, but fighting and then, well, living together and all..."

"Oh." Fighting? It doesn't sound that exciting.

"No, I mean living... ahem... _together_...." I understand the stress on the last word this time and put that together with his embarrassment.

"Ohhh." I feel a wide grin spreading across my cheeks.

"Oh that sounds good, or oh I'm going to hurt you Alistair?" He jokes, but he knows he's safe as he lowers his face towards mine. A sudden flickering of his tongue on my lips put an abrupt end to my worrying about Goldanna. I gasp and close my eyes as he brushes his lips against mine over and over, teasing me. His voice murmurs as he nuzzles my neck. "Do you really think anything but this could make me happy ever again?"

As the Circle doors open, we part with a sigh. Leliana glares at us suspiciously and I wonder if she has a crush on Alistair or something. I'll have to talk to her later. But for now, we're heading back to Redcliffe as quickly as we can. Wynne is happy to perform the ritual and Irving will supply the lyrium.

The sun is getting low in the sky when we run across the woman. "Oh thank the Maker. We need help. They attacked the wagon, please help us. Follow me, I'll take you to them."

As we round the bend, she runs up to a handsome blonde elf clad in leathers and armed with vicious looking daggers. They both face us with a smile. The elf waves his hand and suddenly we're surrounded by a band of armed men.

He smiles at me, a wicked gleam in his eyes. His accent is lilting and beautiful as he shouts. "The Grey Warden dies here."

* * *

Back after a break to add some Zevran love to their world. Merry Christmas everyone! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Hope you've all had a lovely holiday! :) Just to recap, Chapter 9 ended with Zevran ambushing the party.

**Chapter 10**

Alistair is angry with me. He's drawn himself up to his full height, with his arms crossed, a frown marring his face. He looks amazing; a tall, muscular, handsome man and yet I can't take my eyes off the petite elf at my feet.

"I think you're royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous. Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess." The elf drawls.

I don't dare look at Alistair, but the atmosphere somehow grows even more tense. The thing is, I can't explain it, but there's something about this Antivan Crow that feels right. Like he can help. Like I need him.

"I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?" Zevran, as he's called, flicks his gaze to Alistair at the last comment and makes it clear who Zevran considers is the unwanted one.

Alistair shifts his weight again, clearly wanting to smash his shield into this elf's face. I think if Zevran doesn't shut up soon, I won't be able to stop him.

"Very well, I accept your offer." I say, going with my instincts.

I almost hear the pop as Alistair explodes with anger. I give him time to rant about stupid ideas before persuading him that it might be advantageous to have our own trained assassin around. He's still annoyed, but using Duncan's 'any means necessary' phrase makes him understand my motivations. He's still disappointed in me though.

I let Wynne and Leliana bandage Zevran's many wounds and pull Alistair to one side to try and reassure him. "We're almost back to our camp at Redcliffe. Let's rest up for the night as Wynne looks terrible. Then we can ask her to enter the Fade tomorrow morning. Hopefully we'll have everything ready for Connor then."

He focuses on a point somewhere behind me when replying. "Right. Well then. I suggest since we have an assassin to guard against as well as darkspawn, undead and the odd bandit, we should go back to split shifts. I'll go first, you second. Much safer."

"Alistair, I'm not sure we need to..." I begin.

He glares at me for a moment and I see the real face of the warrior inside. I don't think he's ever been truly angry with me before now. "Well, _I'm_ sure. It's not enough that we have an apostate, a murderous Qunari and a half-crazy bard already, _now_ you want to travel with an assassin! My arm is still numb from his poisoned blades!"

He walks ahead of us for the rest of the trip back to Redcliffe, his back a solid wall of disapproval. Zevran acts like he doesn't notice Alistair, instead charming us with stories of his native Antiva. The more I travel, the more I realise that I'm a stupid, sheltered girl with almost no knowledge of the world. Zevran spins tales of his many seductions and assassinations. He makes his missions sound exciting and fun rather than lethal or unsavoury.

I don't realise I'm hanging on his every word or laughing that much until I spot something strange. Every time I laugh, Zevran's eyes dart to Alistair to gauge his reaction. A smug little smile crosses the Antivan's lips, before he launches into another tale.

I realise what he's doing and don't want to play this game, so I walk ahead, leaving the injured assassin behind with Wynne and Leliana. I reach for one of Alistair's hands, squeeze it gently and smile up at him.

"Yeees?" He tries to look grumpy, but I can tell that he's calmed down. I cheat by looking at his beautiful profile and allowing my desire to wash over him. I can tell it's working by the colour rising in his cheeks.

"If we weren't being trailed by a grandmother, a mad Chantry sister and an assassin out for blood, I'd be ravishing you right now." I say softly. "Starting with kissing you... _all_ _over_." It is a daring thing to say, but his resulting blush tells me all I need to know and I grin to myself.

"Hey, you don't get out of trouble that easily! I'm not going to fall for your sneaky womanly tricks." He keeps his eyes in front of him and lengthens his stride.

"You don't want me to kiss you?" I try to pout but it's hard not to laugh.

"Nooo, of course I do... but you're cheating. You can't do 'let's-make-kissy-faces' when I'm mad at you." He tries to control his smile, but I see it creeping across his face.

"When can I make kissy-faces then? Past this next tree? Back in camp? While you're _asleep_?" I purr the last word, laughing as he trips over his own feet.

"Maker! Thess, I give in. I'm not angry... just... stop torturing me. I'll owe you a kiss later." He caves in, smiling at me. Even his ears have gone red, so I decide it's time to behave.

"I want to show you something. Look." I pull on the silver chain that's mostly hidden under my breastplate. A chunk of amber slides out and I hold it out in the palm of my hand. Alistair steps closer and bends his head to see.

"Is that? It is... isn't it?" Wonder and delight cross his face and his eyes gleam.

"Your rose. I asked one of the mages to shrink it, then set it in amber, before it wilted. I wanted it to last forever." His expression is hard to read, but I just wait and let him think about what I've said.

"Last forever. Oh." He removes a glove and strokes it gently. "It's so beautiful, that colour red set in amber..."

"Amber makes me think of the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. This Grey Warden, you might know him. Tall, handsome ex-templar, has excellent taste in women."

"My eyes? Really... Wow." The expression of joy on his face makes me glad that I spent my last coin on the enchantment.

I hear the others catch up and I tuck it back inside my armour. I point to the column of smoke and call back to the others. "We're here. Let's get some rest, the sun will be going down any minute."

Morrigan greets me by complaining loudly at being left behind and at my stupidity at helping an abomination. However Zevran instantly endears himself to me by flirting with her outrageously until she storms away in fury.

"I still don't see why you didn't kill the abomination child." She shouts, before turning into a spider and disappearing into the trees.

"Oh my dear, what other animals can you turn into? The possibilities are...endless." Zevran cries after her.

Wynne and I catch each others eyes and burst into gales of laughter.

"Do you have any herbs to put in the Antivan's food to calm him? I think Alistair might kill him otherwise." I ask Wynne.

"Mmm, I think I'd quite like him to try." Zevran muses, looking Alistair up and down and licks his lips. "Did I tell you that I seduced as many men as women, no?"

"I'm going to cook." Alistair stomps towards the fire, his face red.

"Ahh, it seems Alistair is trying to kill you now Zevran, believe me. Ferelden cooking..." Leliana makes a retching noise.

#

Four tents and seven people. Luckily Morrigan is happy with her makeshift lean-to of rags and sticks while Sten paces the clearing without stopping. But that still leaves four tents and five people. Leliana suggests that she and I share a tent and for a moment I have no comeback and am frozen in fear of losing any time with Alistair.

Luckily for once, Sten saves me. "The Wardens need tents of their own away from the others. Their nightmares and screaming is most unpleasant."

"Yes!" Both Alistair and I say at the same time. I catch his eye and grin.

"Sten is right, really. We do tend to be woken up regularly and on rotating watches. I think that works best. If you don't mind sharing, Leliana, perhaps you could share with Wynne? Zevran can take the fourth tent." I keep busy moving tents and rugs around and manage not to blush too much. Leliana doesn't seem happy, but I ignore her pouting and sad face. There's no way I am changing my mind.

As much as Alistair says he isn't angry with me, he still insists on us taking separate watches. I crawl into my tent, leaving it open for Alistair to sit at the entrance. I'm entranced by the flames dancing on his face as he warms his hands. He's removed his armour and I can see his perfectly formed muscles through his shirt. My stomach flips slowly and I lick my dry lips.

"Alistair." I whisper, hoping that everyone else is asleep. He jumps a little and swivels around to face me.

"You owe me a kiss." I smile tentatively and lightly pat the bedroll next to me.

"I... Your tent? I don't know if I'm ready for that." He looks at the floor and clenches his fists. "I guess that must make me sound like an idiot."

"Not an idiot. Remember the um... lamppost conversation? I've never done this before either."

He lets out a breath and visibly relaxes. "Ah. Yes. Good."

I sit up and move into the opening next to him, lowering the blanket wrapped around me. His eyes open wide as he sees that I'm only in my smallclothes beneath.

"But I hope it's not too soon for this." I press myself against him, kissing him with all the desperation and heat that has been building inside me. My breasts rub against his shirt and I gasp at the spark of heat that ignites in my stomach.

His eyes flicker with a mix of desire and fear but I give him no chance to stop. I let go of the blanket, entwine my fingers in his hair and tug him down toward me. My heart races in my chest as his hands wrap around my hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulls me on to his lap and I gasp as I feel the evidence of his need press against me.

With a rumbling growl, he pulls his head back to gasp for air. "Definitely not too soon. Maker, you feel wonderful." He strokes his fingers lightly along my bare back, making me shiver.

I loosen my grip on his hair and let my hands fall to my sides. "I have no idea how I'm going to sleep after that."

"Oh, so it's your turn for those sorts of dreams is it?" Alistair drawls, raising one eyebrow. "Now I really regret suggesting separate watches."

"Good. Never again." I smile and push against his chest gently.

As I cover myself and slide back into the tent, even though there is no sound or movement, I know the Antivan's eyes are on us. I slither inside the blankets and pull the tent opening half-closed, so that Alistair blocks the access. Surely Zevran couldn't get past him?

"Take care tonight, I think Zevran is awake." I breathe, squeezing his hand.

"He's sitting behind the third tree across from us. He's sharpening his blades now, was mixing poison a moment ago. Somehow it's not reassuring me that he won't try to kill us." He squeezes my hand back then releases it to hold his sword. "I'll wake you soon my dear. Sleep well."

And the fact that Alistair knew about Zevran and managed to keep an eye on him, even with me distracting him, just makes me want him even more.

#

"It is beautiful, no, to sit under the moonlight and contemplate love?" Zevran's voice interrupts my thoughts as I watch Alistair sleep. I jump guiltily and twist around to see him sitting cross legged in front of me.

"Hello, Zevran. I'm on watch duty actually." I nod to him and make a show of putting my hand on my sword hilt.

"Oh, are there darkspawn in that tent? Bandits perhaps? I only ask because your attention seems highly focused, my friend." He pretends to lean around me and looks at Alistair's relaxed face. "Mmm. I see your point. That is something most worthy of attacking, indeed."

He returns his attention to the fire and sets about brewing some strawberry tea. I wonder about his poison skills as he hands me a steaming mug. He understands my hesitation and pulls it back to take a swift sip, before holding it out again.

I take it and swallow a big gulp of steaming tea. "You probably just used a poison you're immune to."

"Why, aren't you the sneaky little assassin? I shall try that idea with your next mug." He wrinkles his nose and smiles, but his hazel eyes stay cold. He seems to sense my reticence to speak and instead tells me tales of his childhood in the whorehouse, being sold to the Crows as a child. Anyone else would try and elicit sympathy, but Zevran is so matter of fact, it's obvious that this is normal to him. He manages to keep me entertained for the next few hours so that I hardly notice when sunrise creeps over the horizon.

I feel Alistair stir and glance behind me. As I face forward, Zevran has disappeared, like a ghost. I'm still wondering whether I should mention talking to Zevran during the night when warm hands grab my waist and pull me backwards so that I fall into the tent.

Two amber eyes gaze into mine, upside down, and I stare at a full mouth curved into a boyish grin. Alistair leans over me and licks my lips gently. "Mmm, strawberries. You taste delicious."

"Thessaly? Are you there?" I hear Leliana calling and struggle to sit up. I ignore Alistair's deep laugh and stand up to wave her over. This has the added advantage of being out of his reach.

Leliana cashes in on the hair dressing promise and while the tents are being packed up, she makes me sit down while she combs and braids and dresses. She uses it as an excuse to do some girl talk while the men are busy.

"Have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair?"

"Really? But it's just braided back most of the time?"

"It's very nice and suits you. Simple yet beautiful." Her hands stroke my neck as she gathers my hair to curl it. I'm distracted for a moment as Alistair bends down to pick something up and I get a chance to admire his rear. Leliana notices my expression and she giggles. "He is rather an impressive looking man, isn't he? And Zevran, he could certainly show a girl a good time? Or do I detect a note of romance with the Bann in Redcliffe?"

"Leliana!" I try to move, but she clamps a hand on my shoulder to keep me in place. "I'm a Grey Warden and there's a Blight going on."

"Ooh yes, the Bann it is then." She giggles and continues to pile my hair on top of my head. "He does have rather wonderful... hips. And those eyes..."

When she's finished, I feel like I've got a ships riggings on my head, and I'm afraid to move quickly. But she tells me to put on my red dress before she'll let me use her mirror.

The look on Alistair's face tells me that the hairstyle is special. Even Zevran raises an eyebrow and whistles. The tiny hand mirror lets me get an idea of a fountain of curls pinned to my head, a few strands escaping to frame my face. Cream and red ribbons are braided in along with clusters of pearls. I feel ridiculous, but am told I look fantastic.

#

Teagan is as gentlemanly as always, taking my arm to escort me into the castle. He exclaims over my hair, calling it the height of Orlesian fashion and Leliana positively glows. Alistair keeps his eye on us, but seems much more content to let Teagan escort me.

Teagan explains that they have been lucky as Connor has remained upstairs. They have heard some screaming and banging, but no-one else has been hurt. For all of his reassurances, Teagan looks tired and his face is drawn. I wonder how long it has been since he slept.

Just before we enter the main hall, he drops his voice a little. "I'm afraid you've made rather an enemy of Isolde. She's been, well, _discussing_ your behaviour and your attitude since you left."

I laugh with delight at the idea. "To be honest, Teagan, with the prospect of beating Loghain, uniting Fereldan and killing an Archdemon, a grumpy Isolde is low down on my list of priorities."

Alistair is a step or two behind me, but I hear him joining in my laughter, our happiness shared.

"Yes, I did point out that you were rather busy yet had already helped with the undead and with Connor. But sometimes, there's no reasoning with her. Sometimes I wonder what Eamon was thinking..." As we enter the hall, Teagan announces me to the room. Leliana slips past me and breathes in my ear.

"Oh, Teagan, he's _so_ handsome. And he can't take his eyes off you." She flounces away with a wink and, not for the first time, I contemplate strangling her. Zevran follows behind and he looks from the bard to me. I wonder if he heard her. Perhaps I can strangle both of them.

Isolde waves a hand at us in greeting, before saying. "I do hope this is worth the time taken to prepare this ritual."

"Yes, well, a choice of killing you or saving you. I also hope it was worth the time." I reply brusquely.

Teagans wonderful diplomatic skills save the day as he helps me to keep the focus on the ritual and Connor. Isolde finally backs down and lets us prepare.

Irving has arrived, and with Jowan's help, Wynne is ready to begin the ritual. I think about what she's doing, entering Connors Fade dreams, and wonder why it's so difficult for them when Alistair and I manage it without any effort. Another question to ask Brother Genetivi when we find him.

Wynne turns to Alistair and says one word, 'Please'. I don't understand, but Alistair does as he replies with a single nod.

I've never seen someone else enter the Fade before and am shocked when Wynne falls to the ground as though dead. Alistair moves to her side, his face dark as he unsheathes his sword and places it by her head. The feelings pouring off him scare me, I've never known him to be so cold before.

"Alistair, what...?" I move to step forward, but Teagan holds my arms and keeps me in place. I glare at him and try to pull free, but he's looking at Alistair for guidance and doesn't let go. Alistair continues to look at me as if he is dying inside. I see Zevran tense on my right, his daggers drawn. He is glaring at Teagan and I shake my head until he sheaths his blades.

"I once saw a mage enter the Fade. In Denerim, before a Landsmeet. The mage was a girl, less than twenty I'd wager, and frightened. She was surrounded by four Templars, all of them there to ensure that only the girl came back." Teagan says.

"Did she? Come back?" I stop resisting as I understand. Teagan loosens his grip, but doesn't let go. Alistair the Templar, guarding a mage attempting to defeat a demon in the Fade. I look at Wynne's frail elderly body at his feet and at the darkness in his eyes and am afraid for both of them.

"Yes, she did. But I understand it's not a rare occurrence for a demon to come back instead. I wonder how often Alistair has seen it?"

I remember him once mentioning a Harrowing, but I hadn't really understood the term, and Alistair was so fragile after Duncan that I hadn't pressed him. It's something I feel I need to talk to him about, to understand that part of him.

It seems like hours pass, but the candle has hardly moved, so I know it's only minutes before Wynne sits up, holding her chest and coughing. Without opening her eyes, she holds a hand up, palm out, and whispers something. Alistair nods and lowers his sword, moving aside, his face immobile. Teagan releases my arms and I run to Wynne's side.

Zevran is already there, lifting her slight body towards a comfortable chair. She is wheezing and clutching her chest, but there's also a triumphant look on her face.

"Connor is safe. I destroyed the demon." She holds my hand and smiles serenely.

Upon hearing this, Isolde runs out of the hall, shouting the boy's name as she hunts for him. Teagan presses his lips to Wynne's hand before following Isolde.

Alistair takes her hand, holding it between his own. They share a look of trust and respect that I don't fully understand, but I can feel the relief surging through him.

#

Teagan tries to keep the peace, but I'm finding it hard to hold onto my temper.

"I'm sure you meant to thank Wynne for saving your son, Isolde, rather than just demanding that we find the Urn of Sacred Ashes for you."

"I do owe her my deepest thanks, I do. I can scarcely believe Connor is the boy he once was. But Eamon, he remains comatose. Surely you see how much we need the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"

"We have The Blight to consider, Isolde. So far we've done little to check it, and we are the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden." I look to Alistair, but he's staring down at Eamon's sleeping body.

Teagan shuffles his feet. "If your business leads you elsewhere, I understand. But I hope you want to restore Eamon as much as I, my dear lady." Teagan seems to have the same puppy eyes as my Mabari and he uses them with the same irresistible power.

Once again, I'm forced to make a decision because no-one else will. I have no idea what we should do next and now Alistair is giving me puppy eyes too... and by the Maker, what else can I do but give him what he wants every time?

"Okay, where do I need to start?" I sigh. Alistair and Teagan grin at each other in triumph.

But then, somehow, once again, things come together. Duncan had told me about Genetivi as an expert to ask about Fade sharing, and now Isolde tells me that Arl Eamon funded the same Brother Genetivi to hunt for the Urn. While it isn't exactly stopping the Blight, perhaps finding this man can also help Alistair and myself.

Teagan is so thrilled, he piles up our merchant Bodahn's carriage with food and supplies. He accompanies us back to the camp, with Leliana giving me winks and stares the whole way. I roll my eyes at her and drop the Banns arm as soon as is polite. We pack up and begin our journey to Denerim while there are still a few hours of daylight left.

But one person isn't happy with my decision. As we're heading away from the castle, Wynne pulls me to one side and lectures me sternly on putting personal feelings before duty. My relationship with Teagan and Alistair is clouding my judgement, apparently. I am a bad warden and she's unhappy with me. Great.


	11. Chapter 11

This chapter is more deserving of the M rating...

Many thanks to Aaliia for beta-ing this chapter so wonderfully (and the last one where I forgot to credit her, sorry!).

* * *

**Chapter 11**

I am alone in the Fade, the sky is dark and the darkspawn are here, though not nearby. The Archdemon is out of sight for once, but I hear it roaring in the distance. It feels strange, being alone, but I use the time to practice taking control of my dreams.

I've managed to make a large bed with white coverings and sprinkled with red rose petals when I feel the air change and know that Alistair has joined me. He wraps his arms around me and we tumble onto the bed together, rolling around, arms and legs entwined. With a laugh I straddle him as he lies back.

Our eyes meet, both of us very aware of the intimacy of the position we are in. I lean down and kiss him, my tongue immediately seeking his. Alistair tastes so good, even in the Fade. I feel his hands wandering down my back to hold onto my hips as I seek his mouth again. My hands rest on the planes of his stomach, hard ridges of muscle that flex and taper wonderfully downwards. I feel his naked body beneath my hips and the hard, thick ridge between us tells me how much he wants me.

My own desire is almost blinding and I press down against him instinctively, the feel of him against me causing a flash of unexpected sweetness, making me cry out. His expression changes, need etched on his face. His fingers press hard into my hips as he pulls me closer, rubbing up against me with a delicious heavy friction.

His mouth twists and with a groan, he rolls over so I slip off to lie trembling beside him. He gently places his hands on my shoulders and pushes me back so that our bodies no longer touch.

"I'm sorry." I try hard to moderate my breathing. The unfamiliar ache between my legs is almost painful, my shoulders tight with tension.

"Don't be, my dear." I feel his hand tenderly brush the hair from my hot cheek. "It takes all of my Templar discipline to deny you anything."

We lie on our sides staring into each other's eyes while our breathing steadies. He strokes my hair, running fingers through the long, loose strands. His eyes are dark with desire and I know that I need to take my mind off how beautiful, how close and how naked he is.

"You've never told me about your training in the Chantry. I'd like to know. Please."

He pulls me close to his side, my head tucked against his shoulder as he settles back against the pillows. He starts off slowly, talking about the silence in the halls, the anger of the priests, but his storytelling picks up speed as he talks about what he liked about being a templar. The discipline - how important it was to always be in control of yourself and your emotions, to ensure that no mage could manipulate you with need or lust.

There is pain on his face when he describes attending a Harrowing. Some poor girl, he was never told her name, who tried to best a demon but failed. Alistair wasn't the one to strike the killing blow, but he knew then that he could never become a templar. He used every trick he knew to avoid his duties, constantly being punished and reviled by the priestesses and his colleagues alike. They saw his compassion as weak, whereas I see it as perfectly Alistair.

As he explains how the mage transforms into an abomination, I lie in wonder at Wynne's strength facing the demon within Connor. I enjoy listening to him, his voice rumbling through his broad chest directly into my ear. I trace the scars on his torso as he speaks, looking at the fine white lines and wondering how many more he might have before this Blight is over.

Alistair's breath catches in his throat as my fingertips graze his sensitive stomach, my palm slowly skimming downwards. He captures my hand and smiles crookedly at me.

"I know I said I'm disciplined, but some things might just push me over the edge."

I feel my cheeks flush pink. I don't know whether to be thrilled that I can affect him this way, or be dismayed that he can resist.

"I think Leliana likes you, you know. She's always looking at you, and she gets really grumpy when she sees us together." I strive to change the subject.

"Really? Eww." He wrinkles his nose.

"Eww? She's a beautiful woman..." I taste his emotions, but I feel no interest in the red head from him.

"Well she's pretty enough I suppose, but I have high standards. Your beauty isn't the main reason I like you." His amber eyes half close as he thinks.

"Oh, really? I think you need to tell me more..." I purr.

"Well, I think I knew you were perfect when we first met..." He smiles.

"Alistair! I was naked in the Fade!" I blush.

"You lie on top of me tonight, all naked and beautiful and... and try to _seduce_ me and you can still blush? Now that's something else I love about you as well." He grins, kissing my forehead quickly. "But I meant when we _met_ - even after that first dream, you didn't get mad at me, you just joked that I preferred men. I fell half in love with you straight away for your humour. Oh, then Jory insulted you and you dropped him to the floor in one move, another chunk of my heart became yours. And then it was all over when you sat down next to me, covered in mud and bruises and still the most beautiful woman on Thedas and told me that you loved cheese. I knew that I was yours for life."

"You want me for my taste in dairy products? Alistair, you are the most romantic man I've ever met." I opt for teasing, my heart racing at how casually he says the word love.

"What can I say? I try my best." He squeezes me close. "But, speaking of women, there's someone I need to tell you about."

I freeze, suddenly wondering where on earth the conversation is going. Is this karma after my smugness over Leliana?

"If we're going to Denerim anyway, I wonder if we might be able to look someone up. Remember my Fade dream? My half-sister Goldanna? I found out that she's still alive, near the alienage."

"Alistair, that's wonderful news, of course you should visit, my love." I say with relief, my hand brushing against his chest.

And I don't know what triggers it, my touch on his chest or my calling him love but I'm pushed onto my back and I feel Alistair's body above me. I feel so small and delicate compared to him. His long legs slide between mine, and I suddenly feel his thigh pressing hard against the burning fire between my legs, that painful throbbing screaming at me once more. But it is when I feel his soft lips kissing down my neck that my body temperature rises to a scorching heat.

He takes his time, circling around my breasts, pressing damp, open-mouthed kisses on my ribs and then my shoulders, above and below until I whimper with frustration. With that noise, he flicks the tip of his tongue against my nipple, startling a cry out of me. My back arches pleadingly and I feel one of his large hands cup the aching weight of my breast before his lips move on again, tasting me as they dip down my side.

"Alistair, please." I moan.

"Please what?" I hear an accented voice say and I blink at the muted dawn light filling my tent. Zevran sits just outside the entrance, sharpening his dagger. He even manages to make that look sensual. Holding the dagger low in his lap, his fingers stroke and rub and squeeze at the blade.

"Mphf..." I struggle to sit up and hold the blankets close around me. I can feel that Alistair is still asleep in the next tent, so I focus on the assassin.

"You look like you are very much in need of my services, no? So much tension... it's not good for you." He raises one eyebrow, his fingers still moving slowly along his dagger. "My thought is this. I join you in your tent and show you the sort of massage skills that one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse."

"Zevran." I ignore the little flutter in my already overexcited stomach. "I just had a strange dream. I'm fine." Using my bare toes I drag my armour closer to me and struggle to equip it under the blanket.

"Strange dreams indeed. It is strange that you and Alistair seem to talk and move in harmony when sleeping in separate tents. Your movements and moans, almost synchronised. This is most interesting and so... stimulating to watch."

I feel my cheeks heat, but I keep my focus solely on buckling my armour and don't react to his teasing. I'm pulling my breastplate over my head when I feel his warm fingers helping, quickly sliding it in place then fastening the usually stiff buckles instantly.

"Thank you. You're very dextrous." I say in surprise. It normally takes five minutes of struggling with the odd swear to Andraste to get this plate on.

"Ah my dear, one day soon you will let me show you just how good I am with my hands." Zevran whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my neck.

I move to push him away before I notice that he has once more stealthed and disappeared. At the same moment, I feel Alistair awaken. I wonder what game Zevran thinks he is playing and if this is why he wanted to stay with us.

Alistair pops a rumpled head out of his tent and smiles at me, a slow and dangerous smile. It instantly reignites the banked fires in me, making me remember the feel of his mouth and his body on mine.

"You have to stop waking up before me, Thess... One minute it's all, well _you know_, the next... just me and a cold bed." Alistair sighs.

I'm not sure if I imagine a hiss by my ear, but I pray to the Maker that it wasn't the Antivan still listening.

#

I have never been to Denerim, and even from the gates I can see it's a huge city. Morrigan, the apostate, and Sten, the Qunari opt to stay with the camp, which makes my planning a lot easier. I ask Leliana to go buy food and herbs with Wynne whilst Alistair, Zevran and I look for Brother Genetivi. Loki goes with the merchant Bodahn to find supplies.

The guards seem to have been warned about the traitorous Grey Wardens and 'wanted' posters of me and Alistair are pasted on some of the walls. But here, Zevran helps us. He's seen bigger cities than this and he guides us around the marketplace, expertly avoiding the guards while mingling in with the crowds.

I keep quiet and trail behind the two men, gawking at everything. As I watch children stealing food from stalls, or watch a mage haggling with a dwarf, I realise how sheltered I've been until now. There are children playing under the bunting, merchant stalls everywhere and a few run down houses. I make a mental note to check out Wade's Emporium, as we all could do with some new armour, when Zevran taps my shoulder.

"There. You said opposite the Gnawed Noble tavern? It is this one with the two shutters." Zevran touches the lock briefly and the door creaks open.

I wonder if it was open, or if he picked the lock, but I knock on the door and enter. Alistair follows me in, but Zevran winks and vanishes.

"Yes? What are you doing here?" A man looks surprised at my entering his home and he cowers a little behind a large dining table.

"Who are you? Brother Genetivi?" I ask, I hold my hands away from my sword and try to look non-threatening. I'm probably not helped by the huge, fully plated man towering behind me.

"My name is Weylon, I'm his assistant, but he's not here. I haven't seen him in weeks..." The man breaks down, shaking.

"Don't worry; I need to find him too. I can help you. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" I ask.

"All he said before he left was that he would be staying at an inn near Lake Calenhad, investigating the area." Weylon points to a map over the fireplace, and I recognise the area, near the Circle Tower.

"Good, I'll head for the inn soon then. Thank you, Weylon." I turn to leave when I feel lips at my ear.

"There is a corpse in the back room and this man has a dagger behind his back." Zevran whispers.

I stop and pivot back to face Weylon. Alistair raises an eyebrow at me, but when I place my hand on my sword hilt, he does the same.

Zevran unstealthes, holding a dagger against Weylons neck. I feel Alistair's confusion, but I trust Zevran and advance slowly on the cowering assistant.

"What did you do? Why is there a corpse in the back room? Is it Genetivi?" I ask.

"You'll never find Genetivi." Weylon hisses, summoning a fireball. As he throws it Zevran slits his throat. Alistair pushes us both out of the blast range, crashing into the dining table. I struggle to stand up, looking in dismay as Weylon lies choking on his own blood.

"He was a mage, I could not chance him casting another spell." Zevran shrugs, wiping his dagger clean.

"No, you did the right thing, thank you Zev." I nod.

Alistair stands behind me and his confusion still swirls around us. "So, what exactly happened here? How did we go from 'let's go to the inn' to 'slit his throat in his own home'?"

Zevran opens the door behind him and points. "There is a corpse in here and the room has been searched. I think we caught this man in the act."

Alistair grunts in acknowledgement, not wanting to admit that Zevran did a good job. He folds his arms and follows me into the room.

I look around the room, two things catching my eye. One is a small notebook which has Genetivi's name scrawled on the front, the other is a huge pile of books, all on Dragon Cults. I wonder what they have to do with the Urn.

#

As we pass a small house, Alistair stops me with a hand on my arm.

"That's my sister's house. I'm almost sure of it, this is... yes. This is the right address. She could be inside. Could we... go and see?" And he is so nervous and excited and adorable that of course I say yes. I ask Zevran to wait for us outside.

Maker, I was stupid and so naive to agree. The harridan inside the hut rips Alistair apart. She doesn't welcome him as part of her family, she just pours out her bitterness and resentment onto him. His face crumbles and he tries to make her listen, but Goldanna lives up to her name and is only interested in his money. I want to slap her and tell her what a bitch she is, but I know that causing such a scene would only hurt him more.

I pull Alistair out of there and slam the door behind me. He just stands there, dazed. Zevran sees us exit, but he can tell something is wrong and thankfully keeps his distance.

"I don't know what to say, Alistair. I'm so sorry." I take his hand and hold it.

"I should have known better. I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. I... I feel like a complete idiot." He looks away to the distance, but I see tears shining in his eyes.

"You don't need her, you have other people who care for you." I lift his hand to my face and press my lips gently to his palm, but his eyes are still fixed on the distance.

"The only person who ever cared for me was Duncan. And he's gone."

"_I_ care." His words send a shiver of dread down my spine. Maybe he's in shock, maybe he's not thinking about what he's saying.

He looks at me then, but his eyes don't really see me. "Thank you for saying that. But I think I'll return to camp for a while. I need to think." He pulls his hand out of mine, and wanders unsteadily towards the city gates, his back stiff and his head down.

It feels like my heart is breaking in my chest and I can't get any air. My hands clench and unclench, and I want to scream and yell and hit him until he listens to me. Then golden tanned arms wrap around me and I let Zevran hold me upright as I feel myself shatter into a thousand pieces.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, you guys. Hope you enjoy today's chapter. Many thanks to Aaliia for her superb beta-skills.

-------------------

**Chapter 12**

I've only ever had the odd glass of wine before, so I have no idea why I thought drinking eight pints of cheap ale was a good idea. I'm pretty sure I stopped thinking after the first one. That would certainly explain my choice of drinking buddies.

When I said I needed to relax, Zevran practically forced me to follow him into the Gnawed Noble. I was in no state to argue and I'd managed to sink about four drinks before I even realised where we were.

The pub is lively, full of shouting men and giggling waitresses. Our table near the side rooms is discreet enough for us to talk without too many people overhearing. The smoke is making my eyes water and the room seems to be swaying.

Zevran downs his drinks in one, encouraging me to do the same. The table is full of empty glasses and I barely notice when Zevran waves an arm to the waitress to order more.

"If you desire to forget that ridiculous human, I can offer many different distractions. Yes? Stories, card games… Perhaps that massage I offered before?"

I feel a very unladylike urge to burp, but manage to suppress it as I take another gulp of the foul-tasting brew. I shake my head and don't look up. I realised about two pints ago that Zevran can practically hypnotise me with his eyes so I'm avoiding looking directly at him.

"I just wonder if I did the wrong thing. I know he wanted to see his sister, but I should have thought about it some more… I should have known…"

I hear his annoyed hiss. "Honestly, my dear, I think your fellow Grey Warden is insane. He has a woman like you begging him to hold her, and yet I'm to understand you are both still… ah, chaste?"

Even through the alcohol haze, I catch his meaning. "Zev! What… how did you know?"

His hazel eyes glitter at me and he raises an eyebrow. "How could I not? Each night, you lay in your bed trembling with desire, aching to be touched, pleading for release and that fool hides in his tent alone too afraid to take you."

I feel the heat from his hooded eyes; his lips seductively shaping each word, making me understand that he wanted to be the one touching me. He leans forward on the table, his thigh pressing against mine and purrs. "You are like a ripe peach, waiting to be plucked, tasted and consumed."

"Yes!" I slam my fist on the table and hiccup. "By the Maker, that's it! Why doesn't he want to pluck me?"

I hear a few snickers from the surrounding tables, but for now I'm concentrating on staying upright. The glasses seem to multiply in front of me and the room starts to spin.

"Zev…" I lean across the table and take his hand.

"Yes, my dearest?" His smile broadens in triumph and his fingers caress my palm.

"I think I'm going to be sick…"

#

Zevran carries me back to the camp, my stomach churning the whole way. Surprisingly, he's a perfect gentleman and he keeps his hands to himself. As always, he distracts me with roguish tales of excitement and adventure.

But as we enter the camp, I'm dragged out of his warm arms to be crushed against cold metal, gloved fingers digging into my skin.

"What did you do to her? I'm going to kill you!" It sounds like Alistair, but I've never heard his voice so angry before.

"Alistair, s'okay. I jus' had a few beers." I try to reach up to his face but end up poking him in the eye. This seems hilarious and I dissolve into a giggling fit. He stops and looks down at me, his expression comical. I laugh even harder then hiccup again. My stomach rolls and I clasp my hand over my mouth.

"Alistair," I hear Wynne call. "Bring her over here, I've got a few potions that may help."

"Wynne! Dear Wynne!" I try and wave to her, then feel another wave of nausea hits.

As Wynne pours a potion down my throat, Alistair stomps around the camp, but apparently Zevran has the sense to have stealthed away. Leliana sits next to me, stroking my hair and pressing a wet cloth to my forehead. Her soft voice is occasionally interrupted by Alistair roaring into the night.

"I love you Leli." I announce. "You're my bes' friend, you are." The world spins and I close my eyes again, oblivious to her expression.

Eventually the potion kicks in and my head clears. I feel utterly ridiculous. I know everyone is watching my idiotic behaviour. Sten is glaring at me disapprovingly from the fireside. While I can't see Morrigan, I can almost feel her gloating from her lair at the back of the camp.

I sigh and summon my courage, pulling myself away from Leliana. She tries to hold me back, but I shake my head and tell her I must speak to Alistair. Her lips press together in a tight line and she sits back with a frown.

As I get close to where Alistair is pacing, I realise why he's still fuming. Zevran is stealthed, but he's calling out to Alistair, taunting him with lies.

"...She begged me to, my friend. When a woman as beautiful as that is naked on top of you, moaning your name, who can say no?"

"Zevran! Stop lying and go away!" I yell into the night. Alistair jumps and glares at me, but he lowers his sword.

"As you command, my sweet." Zevran replies, but I have no idea if he's still there or not.

Alistair is still furious, but he shakes his head and continues to inspect the perimeter. "I know he's lying, don't worry. But I'm still going to catch and kill that Antivan scum." I can feel the power behind his vehemence and realise that it's not an idle threat.

"Alistair, if you don't stop that and pay attention to me, _I'm_ going to kill _you_!" I snap.

He starts at my tone, but sheathes his sword and walks over to me with a frown.

"And I know you're still there, Zev. Go!" I bluff.

There's a soft snicker and the sound of someone moving away. I have to trust that he's gone, but from what I know of him, I don't doubt that he'll be listening.

"I asked Zevran to get me drunk." I admit.

"Wha…" Alistair grabs hold of my shoulders and almost shakes me. His anger comes rolling back and washes over me. His voice is harsh as he growls. "Why would you want to... with _him_?"

"I'm sorry, but after what you said, I needed time to think too."

"Sorry? Sorry for disappearing with the assassin? Sorry for getting so drunk he could have killed you without even trying?" Alistair's fingers dig into my shoulders and I think about the bruises he'll leave.

"When you said that nobody ever cared about you but Duncan, it hurt. When I mentioned my feelings for you, you walked away. I felt upset that you didn't seem to need my comfort, need _me_."

After a moments hesitation, I set aside my anger and let myself lean into his arms and rest my head on his chest. "Remember all this... relationship stuff... it's new to me, too."

"So when you're upset with me, you're going to run off with him?" He growls, still trying to hold me at a distance.

"If you bring Zevran into this one more time, I swear I'll spank your sodding arse with my sword." I swat at his butt with my hand to produce a melodious clanging on the metal plate.

He opens his mouth to keep arguing, but I see the grin tugging at his lips and I feel his humour tickling at us both. "Really, spankings? You promise?" He says in his low, seductive voice and raises one eyebrow.

"Oh, no, no! Spankings are for Bad Alistair. Good Alistair gets something _much_ more exciting." I smile, stroking his cheek lightly.

His fingers relax a little and his expression softens into a smile tinged with regret. "Oh Thess, I'm such an idiot. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was... Maker, how do I tell you?"

"You can tell me anything, Alistair."

"I know..." He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. "I was embarrassed by my own stupidity. How could I be so naive? Wandering into some stranger's house and expecting to mean something to her? And you're standing there, telling me you care and I'm so confused I can't tell what you're truly feeling; love, pity, shame. All I can think is that I'm some pathetic, worthless fool who doesn't deserve you."

"Oh, my love." And I forget that we're on the edge of the camp, that everyone is watching us, Zevran is probably inches away and I stand on my tiptoes and capture his mouth with my own. His tongue finds my parted lips, sweeping into my mouth like molten fire. He explores carefully, pausing to gently tug at my lower lip before deepening the kiss.

I feel his calloused fingers stroke along my jaw and down my throat, pausing at my neckline before brushing along the outside of my shirt to cup a breast. My back arches involuntarily, pushing myself against his exploring hands. My heart speeds as he squeezes gently, his thumb brushing over my nipple. I can't help but moan as he catches it between his thumb and forefinger, the friction with the cloth sending curls of desire through my whole body.

The crashing of pots and an angry 'Harumph' makes me leap backwards from his embrace. Leliana is stomping around the fire, throwing pots and ingredients everywhere and glaring at us.

I look back at Alistair to see that he hasn't moved at all, his lips still parted and moist. His eyes are dark with desire and it takes all my willpower not to kiss him again.

"I think I need to talk to Leliana. And I think you need to help pack up the camp." I sigh regretfully.

"Your desire is my command." He says quietly. Our emotions swirl around us like a tempest and I wonder when the storm will break. The pressure is excruciating.

#

Leliana doesn't look at me as I settle down beside the fire. She stirs the food in the pot, the spoon clattering and banging. Her mouth is pursed and I find it strange that I can't feel her emotions the way I can with Alistair. It's almost scary how quickly I have become accustomed to our strange, shared life.

"Leliana..." I begin.

"You love Alistair." She snaps, without looking up.

I blink at her blunt statement. "I think, yes, maybe I do..." I muse, though it feels odd to tell her before I tell him, to even admit it out loud. I rub between my eyes, a slight ache the only after affects of the beer.

"But, I thought you liked me... have you been playing with my feelings?" Her voice is choked up and I wonder if she's hiding her face because she's crying.

"What? Your feelings..? Oh! I didn't mean..." I blush with surprise at her words. It seems in my ignorance I've trampled all over her feelings. I didn't even think of a woman liking me in that way before. "I thought... you're my friend. A _true_ friend, Leliana."

"I understand. I... I love you both and I'm happy for you, and I will always be here if you need me." She clatters with the pots and sniffs to herself, still not looking up. I sit there for a few moments in silence, but have no idea what to say to the bard that could help.

Wynne rescues me by calling me over, waving Genetivi's research at me. I excuse myself and scurry over to her. Wynne is graceful enough not to mention any of the many preposterous scenes I seem to have been involved in today.

"He's been tracking the Urn for years, but I've read through all of his notes now... most disorganised I might add... and I think I know where he's heading. A village in the Frostback Mountains. Haven, it's called." She taps a nail on the map in the notebook. "Our next stop then?"

I nod, pleased to have a direction. "Yes, I think so. Most of the equipment is packed, so we'll eat then head out. Actually... I wonder if you could do me a favour?" I glance around the campsite, but can't see Morrigan anywhere near. I head to my backpack and pull out a book, wrapped in a dark cloth.

"Here." I pass it to Wynne. "I found it, well, it doesn't matter where. But it's got Flemeth's name in it and it looks magical. I really don't trust Morrigan enough to show her, but perhaps you could take a look through it sometime?"

Wynne glances at the writing, running her hand across the dark brown ink, her fingertips tracing some of the diagrams. "Yes, I don't trust her either. I'd be happy to see if I can help."

I squeeze her shoulder and make my way over to Sten and Alistair where they are packing up the tents, to tell them about Haven.

#

As we cross into the mountains, a horde of darkspawn swarm us. An emissary aims a fireball at us, but with a scream, Wynne is covered by a shining white light. Everything goes a little crazy then, darkspawn hacking at us, Wynne throwing out massive heals spells and all of our party fighting grimly.

I see Alistair surrounded by a pack of monsters and charge my way to him, great-sword hacking through flesh and bone. Just before I arrive, he's overpowered by an Alpha Hurlock, knocked onto his back with a mace at his throat.

"Nooooo!" I scream as I bash away some of the crowd around him, painfully aware of being too far away. Yet as the mace begins to fall, Zevran appears from stealth behind the Alpha and in one smooth movement, decapitates it. He shifts like a dancer, swinging around the tottering corpse to haul Alistair to his feet in one movement.

The fight continues to rage, more darkspawn teeming down from the sides of the hill as we struggle to hold our ground. Spells and arrows fly past me as we finally kill the last few creatures. Zevran busies himself, ensuring all of the creatures on the ground are dead, a gruesome but necessary task.

"We won? We did?! Yay, we won!" Alistair whispers 'yay' again before sliding to the floor in a bloody heap.

"Wynne! Wounded!" I yell. He's holding his arm out stiffly and I see blood dripping from beneath his plate.

"I'm okay, just a few cuts from when I was knocked down." Alistair coughs, blood speckling on his lips. He raises one eyebrow and smiles ruefully. "Your assassin saved me. If he hadn't got to that Alpha..."

"You're welcome, my friend!" A heavily accented voice calls out gaily from the distance. Alistair swears softly under his breath.

I wipe at the blood on his face as a white glow surrounds him. Warm light rains down on us both and I feel the pressure of my aches and bruises easing. Alistair coughs again, but some of the colour is returning to his cheeks. The blood dripping from his side slows and stops and I sigh with deep relief.

"He'll need to rest for a day or two still." Wynne calls over, before turning back to see to Sten.

"Listen to your Grandmother." I smile, running my thumb across his lower lip. "So, perhaps it's time for some restful sleep alone tonight and a day in camp tomorrow?"

"The camp bit I don't mind, but I like _un_restful sleep." He complains.

"One night, you can do without our... ah... dreams. Tomorrow, I'll take Zev and Sten with me to Haven instead... It'll be quick and I'll be back when you're feeling better in the evening."

As I'm helping Alistair back to Bodahn's cart, Wynne stumbles and falls to her knees with a cry. I want to help, but Alistair is leaning on me heavily. Once more, Zevran's superior speed means he is the first to her side, the one helping her stand. He picks her up and follows me to the cart. Alistair lips compress into a thin line, but he doesn't comment.

For all his complaints, as soon as Alistair lies down, he's out like a light. I do envy him that, sometimes. I spend the night outside his tent with Zevran once more keeping me company through the darkness. I half-listen as Zevran talks about Antiva and his mother the Dalish elf, but my attention is focused on the sleeping man behind me. He seems relaxed and undisturbed by Archdemon dreams tonight and I hope his wounds will heal quickly.

Zevran, Sten, Loki and I set off into the cold mountains early, letting Leliana look after the sleeping Alistair and Wynne. After her collapse, she could probably use the extra sleep.

The tiny village itself isn't far from the camp, but it is a cold and uninviting place. The houses are all shuttered closed, there are no people, no signs of life. The guard at the gate tries to send us away, but I bluff my way past him, saying that I need supplies from the town store.

But as I cross the deserted town square, I hear Sten draw his sword from its scabbard.

"Interesting strategy. Tell me: Do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the Archdemon from the rear?" Sten rumbles.

"This trip is necessary, Sten." I look up into his violet eyes and try to stare him down.

"Is it? I see. I was mistaken then. It seemed to me that we were climbing a mountain in the middle of nowhere on some frivolous whim of yours." His lips curl in disdain and his fingers tighten on the blade hilt.

"This isn't frivolous. We need Eamon to help at the Landsmeet." I explain, try to hold onto my temper.

"The Archdemon is our goal and we are heading away from it to find the ashes of a dead woman. I will not simply follow in your shadow as you run from battle." Sten draws his sword and sights down the blade. "Defend yourself."

And somehow, I'm in a fight to the death with one of my companions.

* * *

I so do the whole 'I love you, you're my best friend' thing when steamingly drunk. Luckily, I don't know any female stalkers like Leliana! :)


	13. Chapter 13

Much kudos much go to Aaliia & Desertwillow for beta-ing this. I'm trying to write so quickly, I'm leaving in some terrible mistakes that they are spotting.

Hope this will keep you entertained until Monday :)

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Red ribbons in the snow. There's a rushing in my ears and I can't smell anything, but as I look down, I see the beautiful red ribbons twisting behind us.

Zevran had held my Mabari Loki back, his expression cold. He seemed to sense that unless I won this battle alone, it would be meaningless.

Sten fought hard, trying to take my leadership away forcefully, but even with his superior strength, I blocked most of his blows. My own speed and smaller size helped me against him, cutting underneath his guard to smash away his resolve. Panting and on his knees, he bowed his head and swore to follow.

I accepted, leaning on my sword, winded. But it was only as I swung my sword into my scabbard behind me that the wound in my thigh truly opened up. I heard Zevran yell and looked at him in surprise as he dashed to my side. It was the same wound I got in Redcliffe but it seems that this time Sten's blade cut deeper.

I remember asking Zevran for a bandage to patch me up, astonished at the look of shock on his face. A bright jet of red spurted out of my leg, spraying rhythmically in time with the beating of my heart. Then the world went black for a while.

When I awoke, it seemed that everything had turned red. Zevran's face is covered in it, the blood matting his hair into clumps, his leather armour a deeper brown and tacky against my skin.

Zevran is carrying me, running swiftly down the mountain. Even with my armoured weight, his light steps don't break the crust on the snow. His right hand is pressing down hard on my leg and _Maker_ it hurts. I try to ask him to stop, but I can't seem to speak, my voice just a harsh breath in my mouth. I look down at his hand on my thigh. There seems to be a pool of red sloshing there and it finally all makes sense.

My head lolls back against his left arm and I see the snow again, my blood pulsing out of me to mark our trail with a scarlet streamer. His elven tread leaves no footprints in the snow to ruin the effect. My head feels light and my vision fades in and out.

"Zev?" I whisper. The assassin glances down at me, concern in his eyes so unlike his usual mask. He doesn't slow down. I see pine trees flying behind him.

"Will you tell him? Tell him I love him?" I manage.

"No." His eyes tighten and he looks back to the path. "No, my friend, I will not. To talk of this is bad luck. You will tell that fool your feelings yourself back at camp."

"Make peace with your gods" I hear Sten rumble, but I can't seem to move my head to look him. Zevran hisses something in a beautiful language that sounds like a curse, his right hand still applying pressure against my wound.

I must have blacked out again, the world only coming back into focus when Zevran almost sings to me. "We're here, my dear. Stay with me now. We're close."

"Wynne, we need you now!" Sten booms from behind me.

Things go hazy again, then I'm on a bedroll and the pressure is gone from my leg. Someone seems to be screaming and I want to tell them to stop, but I can't speak. I see Wynne's face for a moment, then she's gone and it's Alistair there. I can see him holding my hand, but I'm so exhausted, I can't move or reply. It's so good to see his face, even crumpled in pain as it is.

Then Wynne is back, forcing a potion down my throat. I can't seem to swallow, but she keeps forcing it on me, rubbing my throat until I manage to choke some down. Her mouth sets into a grim smile and she casts a heal spell. I can feel the warmth of the spell mingling with the potion inside me and I feel as if I'm light as air.

Everything glows, Alistair's hair, Wynne's hands and I feel amazing. Joy pulses through my veins and my heart beats faster. The pain in my leg is gone and whoever was screaming seems to have stopped. I still can't control my body, but it's okay. I feel great. The sky above me pulses with different colours and the clouds shimmer with a beautiful intensity.

Leliana leans above me, her face drifting in and out of focus. I feel a warm cloth washing my face, her fingers gently removing the blood and grime.

The Heal spell slowly wears off and I find myself lying by the fire, with Alistair kneeling next to me. Everyone seems to be hovering above me, most of them covered in blood and I wonder idly if they've been fighting, too.

"It's worked Alistair. She'll recover." I hear Wynne say softly and watch Alistair's face crumple into silent tears. "She needs to rest. She has lost a lot of blood."

I try to smile at him, but I'm still not quite able to manage it. He kisses my forehead, his face crumpled.

"Alistair, I..." I hear Zevran begin.

"You! What did you do?" Alistair shouts. I hear scuffling and shouting. There's the brief clash of metal on metal before Alistair roars his battle cry. I hear Zevran calling something out, before Alistair bellows again and the sound of fighting commences again.

My head swims as I push myself into sitting up, but the bandages on my leg stay white. Leliana helps me up, her hands supporting me as I sway.

I see Zevran avoiding Alistair, constantly disappearing into the darkness whenever Alistair gets close. Alistair is slashing at the shadows, trying to catch him.

"Parshaara." Sten grabs Zevran as he reappears, wrapping both arms around his chest. He holds the Antivan high, while glaring at Alistair. "I did it. I challenged the Grey Warden for leadership and I lost. Her leg was injured in the process. The Elf saved her life."

"What? Is this true?" Alistair visibly deflates, lowering his sword.

Zevran nods before wriggling out of Sten's crushing hold. He sheaths his daggers and relaxes his stance, but his face is colder than the mountain air.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Alistair asks.

"Would you believe the word of an assassin soaked in your lover's blood?" Zevran spits, before cloaking himself in shadows.

Sten grumbles something then but I can't make it out. He and Alistair stand toe to toe and I worry as Alistair becomes agitated. He starts poking his finger in the Qunari's face, but Sten seems calmer than he ever has and he accepts Alistair's anger. But when Alistair starts pushing Sten, I decide to act.

"Alistair." I croak. My voice is quiet but through our Grey Warden bond, he hears me. He lets go of Sten's armour and comes back to my side. Leliana moves without comment to give Alistair room next to me.

"I'm tired. Could you take me to my tent to sleep, please?" His fingers feel cool as they stroke my face gently.

Alistair glances over at Wynne for permission, his eyes pleading.

"If all you two intend to do in there is sleep, then yes that's fine." Wynne says. "If you even think of doing anything more intimate..."

"Andraste's flaming sword!" Alistair splutters. "We're both wounded. She just needs sleep."

"Oh, all right then. There's no need to be so embarrassed about it though. Your cheeks, they're all red and mottled. How cute."

He growls under his breath as he carefully scoops me into his arms. I wince a little, but the heal spell is miraculously numbing the pain. I still find it hard to move, so I lie limply in his arms. He drops to his knees and crawls into my tent, laying me down on my bedroll.

"Do you want me to stay nearby? Outside?" He asks, concern furrowing his brow.

"Here - next to me. Please," I whisper. He tilts his head and frowns, looking at the bandage on my leg. I stroke my fingers across his chin, feeling the stubble catch against my fingertips. "Please?"

He blinks a couple more times then a crooked smile twists his mouth and I feel his warm body sliding next to mine. His long legs press against mine, his heat seeping into me, relaxing me.

"I'll see you soon, my love." And I fall asleep.

#

I am lying on my side on the bed, but there is no pain and my leg is smooth and unmarred by any wound. I can feel him lying behind me, exactly as he was in the tent, but without the hindrance of clothing.

I roll over to my other side, so I'm facing him. He glances at my leg and smiles to see it unmarked. Then his eyes drift upwards a little and a red flush creeps across his face. He drags his eyes upwards to my face and he grins.

"I was right about you. When we first met in the Fade. You must be a desire demon. This has all been a grand plan to enrapture me."

"Well, if it was my plan to enrapture you, it's backfired." I push him onto his back and look down into his amber coloured eyes. "I love you." His eyes widen and I whisper again. "I love you." Nothing seems more important than telling him, and I am thrilled at the wave of emotion he sends back to me.

"I... I love you too. I never thought I would feel this way."He murmurs back, his eyes smouldering.

And the storm within finally builds into a raging tempest. I need to touch him, taste him, hear my name on his lips. I trail kisses along his jaw, feather light and fast as a butterfly, stopping as I reach his ear. He smells of wood-smoke and leather and soap, the most enticing aroma I know.

"Good. Let me show you how much I love you." I whisper, my voice low and seductive, before I take his lips in a slow kiss. It is a sweet, unhurried kiss, drawn out to make him breathless, flushed with desire. Alistair responds by making low sounds in his throat; every sweet groan and gasp sends sparks of fire shooting through me, down to my belly and lower.

He tilts his head back in a silent offering so that I can nuzzle his throat. I lick the soft skin, tasting just the barest hint of a flavour that is so uniquely him. His stubble grazes my sensitive lips, scratching at my chin. I feel his pulse beating strongly against my tongue and his fingers twist in my hair.

I trace the line of his shoulder tentatively, my fingers shaping patterns along his broad shoulders. His feeling of pleasure grows and it encourages my experiments. I kiss along his defined muscles, down to his wide chest. My own breath catches in my throat at his physical beauty, laid bare before me. Alistair's lips are slightly open, and his face is awash in wonder. His hands fall to clench at his sides, clasping the sheet beneath tightly.

Despite my lack of practical experience, this beautiful man's reactions to my experiments give me confidence in my feminine power. I smile at him, watching his face from beneath lowered lashes, and lick slowly across his breast bone. I find his small brown nipples and wonder if he reacts to the same stimulations as I do. I stroke my tongue across one lightly, revelling in his quick intake of breath.

"Thess, Oh Maker... No, please..." Alistair moans, one of his hands rising to push me away.

"Lie back, my templar. Be disciplined." I chide him playfully, pressing his hand back to the sheets. I know how much he wants this – I feel his passion alongside my own.

Alistair lies back again, but the muscles of his arms are tense and his eyes are filled with a mix of naked desire and pure fear. I taste his emotions again to be sure. The nervousness and anticipation are almost equal, but there's an edge of pure bliss that is sugar sweet on my tongue.

My hands keep wandering as I tease him with my lips. They move along his rib-cage to his tight stomach. Alistair's skin gleams golden in the Fade, and my exploring fingers feel the scars that the light does not reveal.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I stroke my hand across his stomach. It is flat with the outline of his toned muscles clearly visible and I delight in stroking my fingertips downwards, watching his abdomen clench. He shivers and growls, deep in his chest, but he stays still as I brush against his thighs, venturing into completely new territory.

His cheeks are burning now, his eyes darker than I've ever seen them and his anticipation is drowning me. Everywhere I explore, his skin shivers and jumps. Every gasp, every shudder, every hitched breath drives my own stimulation higher.

I see his arousal, a rigid, needy length that I had neglected until now. I marvel at the hardened flesh - unlike my own body and yet so beautiful to look at. I hesitate for a moment and bite my lip, my fingers hovering above him.

Then I decide that my, no, _our_ need outweighs my naivety. I so desperately want him to feel my love for him instead of just hearing it. In my innocence, I'm not sure what he needs, so I skim my fingers lightly down his length. His hips buck upward towards me. I caress him lightly again, sweeping my fingers upwards. His moan is deep in his throat as my hot breath ghosts across his skin, his fingers tightening on the sheet as he tries to control his need. But I don't need his control. I want his passion.

"Thess, my love" He breathes. "Please."

He places his larger hand over mine and shows me how to touch him. He feels so strange and wonderful, rock solid hardness that is encased within the softest velvet skin. I follow his movements, stroking with my palm and squeezing gently with my fingers. I let myself be guided by his reactions; the gasps and moans, the urging hands of his telling me what he needed. I feel his emotions, his sensations, rolling over me. I float in a haze of pleasure, overwhelmed by our reactions. All that matters is my hand stroking along him, the fingers that caress his flesh.

The sounds he makes encourages me and I increase the tempo. It is glorious to feel this proud warrior trembling beneath me - to feel his emotions flattening me with their power. His hand falls away and his back arches, his big body shudders and he finishes with a spasm and a cry.

"Maker!"

I feel strangely proud of myself, looking down at him gasping for breath and shaking. I have no idea what I'm doing, but the sensations coursing through our bodies make me realise the enormity of what I've made him feel. He opens his eyes and smiles at me, his cheeks still flushed. Although I ache with need, I lie down beside him, watching his chest rise and fall heavily as he struggles to recover.

Sated and exhausted, Alistair gently pulls my face towards him, kissing me deeply, before breaking off to breathe again.

"Oh, my love. Look what you've done to me, I'm shaking."

I purr, stroking his chest gently with my fingertips. His breathing steadies slowly and he captures my hands, rolling on top of me.

Lips meet lips, hesitant at first, and the touch is electrifying, sending sparks all through my body. I gasp and Alistair takes that as invitation. The kiss deepens to an intensity that makes my body throb.

"Tell me what to do." His expression is so serious. "I... I don't know how..." His fingers trail along my breasts, burning trails down my stomach as he traces sweeping loops along my body. It is a kind of torture; long, whisper-light brushes against super sensitive skin. His fingers graze the liquid heat between my legs and my whole body shudders.

"Alistair, I..." I whimper against his neck.

The fingers of my lover wander between my thighs and I whimper. Fire runs through my body, setting my nerves aflame. Never in my wildest dreams, had I imagined it would feel like _this_ - like sparks, running all through me, generating a heat and warmth I had not known before. It feels as if I was born waiting for his touch my whole life.

In a heartbeat, he is gone and I'm back inside my tent, with Alistair's sleeping form pressed against me.

"Thess, wake up!" Zevran's voice hisses in my ear. "Shades, in the camp. We're under attack."


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks once again to my lovely betas :)

* * *

**Chapter 14**

In my head, the Archdemon screams at me. Alistair is out of the tent and swinging his shield before I have a chance to react. He's only wearing his thin shirt and there are shades and darkspawn everywhere. I try to stand, but Zevran pushes me back inside.

"I'm here to protect you. Stay back." He exits the tent with a pirouette and spins his way through three approaching genlocks before dropping into a crouch, their blood dripping from his hands. He guards the area near my tent ferociously while Alistair demolishes the advancing horde that charge through the camp.

I try to stand again, but my leg makes it clear that I'm going nowhere. The Heal spell has worn off and it feels like Sten is bouncing up and down on the wound. With his boots on. So I draw my blankets around myself and watch my friends fight. The Frostback mountains are cold, and my breath fogs in front of me. I feel almost deafened, sitting just inside the tent entranceway, as it muffles the sound of the fighting.

Zevran sticks close by, leaping and hissing like an alley-cat, his daggers acting as claws, ripping and shredding at the beasts. In the distance, Alistair moves more like a lion, huge and powerful, his sword smashing into the darkspawns leader, his bulk terrifying.

Leliana supports Alistair in my usual role, picking off any of those trying to flank him. Loki is protecting Wynne as she stands, eyes closed but palms outstretched, in the centre of the camp throwing out Heal spells with a frightening rhythm. Her power seems to have intensified threefold since we first met. I see Morrigan half-hidden behind Sten, draining the life out of the malformed creatures. I wonder for a moment if she is affected by their taint as she does this. It might explain her complete lack of a heart and feelings.

A genlock tries to blindside Zevran, and my fingers twitch towards my greatsword. But the elf beheads the beast before my hand has finished moving. I marvel at his speed and idly wish I didn't have to have pounds of plate on my back when I fought.

As the last beast falls, I hear the Archdemon scream in rage in my head, its gaze dragging across the campsite. It is furious that we've survived the attack. I catch Alistair's eye across the fire and he nods, once. It knows about us now.

Alistair moves around the site, clearing bodies, killing the merely wounded. He looks so beautiful, the firelight shimmering on his lightly clothed form. I think of him beneath me, his body trembling at my touch. The way he responded to me, the sensations that flooded both of our bodies. My cheeks flush and that throbbing desire between my legs clamours for attention once more.

The blankets next to me settle and I hear someone exhale next to my ear. I see the shimmering outline of a rather handsome and infuriating elf and I switch gears quickly.

"You are a lucky woman, my dear. To hear him earlier- well, it made even a jaded man such as I remember my first time. But I didn't hear so much from you…" His voice is soft, seductive and inches from my ear.

"Zev, if he catches you in my tent, he _will_ kill you." I hike my blanket up higher and wrap it under my arms.

"Pff, I'm hidden from his eyes now and I'll be gone before he arrives," Zevran chuckles.

"Okay, let me try that again. I'm in my smallclothes and you're in my tent and you just recently tried to kill me. Do you understand the term personal space?" I try to look stern, but it's hard when I don't know where exactly to glare at beyond a shadow.

"Again with the assassination? I failed, did I not? And haven't I saved your life since then? Yours, and your foolish lover's. Tsk, tsk, you wound me, my dearest. Like an arrow to my heart."

"It still doesn't mean you can prance into my tent any time you like!" I hear the creak of leather and see an outline move to my right.

"My dear, I do not _prance_, and you are avoiding the conversation. With all his moaning, I never heard a sigh of completion from you? Did he not...?"

"Seriously Zevran, were you listening outside our tent all night again? What's wrong with you! Don't you ever sleep?" I ignore his questions and try to deflect him but I know the colour in my cheeks speaks the truth.

"I get enough sleep and it's warm by the fire outside your tent." I can't see him, but I hear his armour shift as he shrugs. "But your Fade sharing- this is something new to me. I admit I am... intrigued."

I try to draw a breath, but I just gape at the empty space. "Fade sharing? What... how do you know about it?"

"Grey Wardens and their naughty dreams are old legends in Antivan whorehouses. True, it is said to be rare. But here I meet my first two Grey Wardens and I see it. Not so rare then. And you two share... well, everything it seems."

"Antiva... The legends, do they give names? Was it Prasutagus and Bouda?" I'd forgotten that Duncan said they were from Antiva and disappeared there. Of course, it makes sense that there may be stories.

"Hmm, yes, perhaps those were the names. But these tales were told when I was very young. I remember only their prowess in battle and in bed. Their stamina, their strength, their _lust_. Trust me. These Fade sharing legends are partly why Grey Wardens are so respected in Antiva. It is said that they... Ah, excuse me, my dear."

The blankets move slightly and a moment later I see Alistair's bare feet just by the tent entrance. He bends down and peers at me as I sit wrapped up in blankets with an innocently blank smile. His eyes rake the tent and then he grunts. I can smell the blood and sweat of the battle dripping off him.

"I thought I saw the Antivan near here..." He crawls inside the tent and places a hand on my leg, a question in his eyes. His fingers are cool from the outside air and they ease the pain.

"It still hurts like hell, but I think if Wynne wiggles her fingers again, it'll be fine." I run my fingers down his cheek. "You know the Archdemon found us because of me?"

"What? How?" He rocks back onto his heels, his eyes unblinking.

"My blood. The taint. I think because so much of it was spilled. It... I don't know- smelled it, felt me? But I heard it talking to the horde in my head about it as I awoke."

His expression is grim, but he leans forward and gathers me in his arms, resting his cheek on top of my head. "Well, we don't have to worry about it anymore. I'll never let you get that hurt again."

"I know, my love." I squeeze him back. "But that's not the problem. We need to get the Arl back on his feet. While Sten was wrong to go about it as he did..." I squeeze him again as he grumbles against my ear. "He was right that we're not taking the Blight seriously enough. We've got to stop playing at adventure and do something useful."

I feel his hurt swirl around me, even though I can't see his face. "This is my fault, pressuring you into helping the Arl," he says, his shoulders tensing.

"No, shush, Alistair. You're right to help Eamon, truly. If we cannot defeat Loghain, we won't even have a chance at the Archdemon. I want to focus on our tasks, perhaps use our companions to their strengths. What sense is there in our traipsing across the countryside together, if we only go out in a party of three or four?"

He leans back to look me in the eye, his face lit up with excitement. "Yes! We go talk to the dwarf king, while we send, what, Leliana and Zevran to find the Dalish? We can meet up later and it will be much faster."

"Mmmm," I nod. "Something like that, yes. Whenever we go anywhere, there are always people needing something, wanting help. Well, we two don't need to do all of it, do we? I'm sure even Morrigan has her uses."

"Well, only if we want to scare children or curdle the milk." Alistair laughs.

"Come on, it's almost light. Let me get hold of Wynne and see if I can get back to active duty."

"Wait!" Alistair reaches up and cups my chin, looking into my eyes. "About before, I'm sorry we got interrupted. That was the best night of my entire life. I want you to know that."

"Even though we got interrupted before my... um turn." I can't suppress a small smile as he blushes. "It was still the best night I've ever had."

"Well, until tonight." Alistair drawls and kisses me hard on the mouth.

I wrap my arms around him to draw him closer. He tastes of smoke and sweat and a sweet, fruity tang that is intoxicating. There are bangs and crashes outside the tent, but I don't care. I ignore the faint snicker coming from a few feet to my right as I let my tongue slip between his lips. The banked fires within me spark to life once again and I press against him, daringly rubbing my breasts across his chest. The feeling of his chapped lips on my own makes me mewl with need.

With a groan, he pushes me away gently and indicates the open tent with a tilt of his head. "Later, my love. You'll see. I promise." He untangles his arms and backs slowly out of the tent, pausing in the doorway.

"Before we go. Have I told you that I love you? I did? Well, it won't kill you to hear it again, will it?"

"I think I need to hear it again, at least once a day, every day for the rest of my life." I let the blanket puddle around my hips and I smile lazily at him.

His eyes go wide and he gulps. "I can handle that. I think."

#

Puppy eyes seem work on Wynne too, and after a few grumbles, she heals my wound to the extent that I am strong enough to go back to Haven.

Alistair, Zevran, Wynne and I make a good team. We wander through the deserted town, trying to find out more information. We have seen a few locals, but they tend to hiss and run into buildings, or just flat out ignore us.

"Is it my breath? Because I did eat a lot of cheese for breakfast." Alistair jokes.

"No my friend. The main stench comes from your socks. In contrast, your breath is almost sweet. Compared to a mabari." Zevran plays with his daggers, spinning them around a finger, flipping them from hand to hand, never still.

"I liked you more when you didn't speak to me," Alistair gripes back, but I sense his growing respect. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

We try to shop first, but the only thing that is available is a grumpy owner with a bad attitude. I do find one interesting item, but I stow it in my backpack for later. The shop owner ushers us out, locking the door behind us.

"Could this town be any unfriendlier," I grumble. "Where is everyone?"

Zevran points up the hill with his blade, which I note is now coated in poison. "I hear noises from up there, my friend. It does not sound wholesome."

Following the path up the mountainside leads to a tall, wooden hall. Zevran is right, there is chanting and groaning coming from the building. Inside the main hall, we see a strange ritual going on. I'm no expert in religion, but I thought that all priestesses were women. Then there's shouting and screaming and the usual bloodletting occurs. I have no idea what it is about us that inspires people to attack us but the villagers in the hall, armed with little more than crude weapons, die at our feet in droves.

"Dragon cult." Wynne shakes her head grimly, pointing to the stylised dragon on the priest's robes. "In Genetivi's books. I think that's what you've found here."

"And yet, no Genetivi," I sigh.

"Short man? balding? broken leg?" Zevran calls from behind a bookcase.

When we follow Zevran through the secret door to the Brother, we find out the true horror of Haven. There are numerous dead Redcliffe Knights and altars and sliced human remains hidden away behind this ruined village. Blood trickles down runnels in the altars, gathered in ceramic pots for Maker knows what rituals.

Genetivi has been captured for days and he is weak with lack of nourishment. Wynne uses a mixture of potions and spells to knit the broken bones, but Alistair has to carry him while the bones set.

"He's still lighter than you, with all your armour on, piggy," Alistair snickers at me.

"I'm the pig? How much did you eat this morning? I'm sure Teagan gave us about two hundred pounds of food and now there are just scraps."

"What can I say? I'm a growing boy." Alistair grins.

"I'd say it was a consequence of all your nightly exercise," Zevran calls over his shoulder as he sets off back down the hill. I see Wynne look from Alistair to myself with a frown before following Zevran.

Genetivi begs us to continue to the temple, but I refuse.

"Our camp is close by, Brother. One night of recuperation will not make you fail at your quest. Today, you can't even walk. By tomorrow your leg will be healed and we will return with you to find the ashes."

"You're right, I'm sorry. It's just... a lifetime of research and I'm so close. You must tell me if there is anything I can do to repay you."

I see that Wynne and Zevran are just out of hearing range ahead and place a hand on Alistair's arm. He stops.

"Actually Brother, there is some information that would aid me greatly. I have been informed that you are the expert on Fade Sharing. Is that correct?"

Genetivi scrunches his face in thought, rubbing his chin. "Why yes, I've written libraries on the Hossberg couple. Alaric and Galla they were called. Wardens from the Anderfels, they became famous during the third Blight for their fighting prowess. Partners both on and off the battlefield, they laid waste to the horde sweeping through Hunter Fell. Fifteen years of fighting, and the legends say when this couple were joined, the Wardens defeated the Archdemon within months."

I catch Alistair's gaze and he raises his eyebrows at me with a small shrug. "And Prasutagus and Bouda? Did they not have a similar story?"

"You Wardens are very well informed. I'm impressed." Genetivi taps on his nose with his fingertip. "The stories say that they too arose during a Blight. The Fourth, in the North. Hmm... I've often wanted to research tales of other Wardens fade sharing in the earlier Blights, but there are no records of it... I suppose if I went to Weiss..."

"Brother," I interrupt with a polite smile. "Do the tales tell of more than just their shared battle prowess? Are there more details? How does it happen? Why? What happens to them after the Blight?"

He looks at me askance, sniffing. "You don't know? But this is the most famous part, their fate has spawned countless papers. I myself have written two books..."

"And their fate?" I persist.

"Well, Alaric and Galla spent so long together, sharing their thoughts and feelings, they couldn't separate who was who any more. Driven quite mad, you know. Horrific tragedy. Entered the deep roads a year after the Blight ended."

Ice cold fingers run down my back and my arms ripple with goose flesh. I daren't look into Alistair's eyes and I concentrate on the Brother.

"And Prasutagus and Bouda? Did they also...?"

"Hmm, well, that I would love to know. They disappeared into Antiva after the end of the Fourth Blight and no-one knows of their fate. One assumes that they too would have been driven mad. Who can cope with living inside one another's head?"

"Who, I wonder," I agree softly.

#

I avoid Alistair, keeping busy organising our followers, making sure that we are prepared for battle tomorrow. I can feel our confusion and fear though, both of us feeling the same, which in of itself scares us more.

When I hold out the Antivan boots I found in Haven to Zevran, I actually think he's going to attack me. He narrows his eyes and drops into a fighting stance, his hands hovering near to his daggers. I don't speak and just wait, unmoving, my hands holding up the boots. He sniffs once or twice, and then relaxes his stance, but his eyes are still wary.

"Antivan leather, isn't it? I would know that smell anywhere. What do you want for them?"

I just shake them a little and keep holding them out. "They're a gift. For you. Since you said you missed the smell."

"A _gift_? Thank you." His hazel eyes blink, but he takes the boots, holding them to his nose to sniff. "It's delightful isn't it? Just like rotting fish. Hmm, this takes me back."

With the most natural smile I've seen on his face, he drops to the floor and slips them on. "And they fit! Marvellous! Now if only you could find me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder and a corrupt politician, I'd really feel like I was at home." He tilts his head up and peers at me through his eyelashes. "Thank you, my dear. Truly."

I don't want him to read more into it than I intended, so I shrug and blush, backing away from his hypnotic gaze. "It's no big deal. I like to share everything we find."

As I head away from him, I notice that Alistair is at the far side of the camp, practising some sword moves with Sten. I take the opportunity to scurry over to Wynne's tent. Genetivi is asleep inside and she is mixing up a new set of healing potions.

"Wynne, may I have a word please?" I ask, sinking to my knees in front of her.

"Of course you may, Thessaly. What's the problem?" She smiles her grandmotherly smile and I almost run away. Brave Grey Warden, indeed.

"Um… Well. I need some advice. Well, no. Some help really."

Her hands still and she looks up at me. "And you're asking me because...?"

"Well, you may have noticed... No, maybe you don't know. Anyway, yes. Alistair and I..." I stumble. I hear her intake of breath and rush on. "We're close. And possibly getting… closer. And I don't want to not be able to fight against the Blight because of..." I wave my hand over my stomach and gulp.

"You're asking me about contraception?" She lowers her voice and frowns.

"Yes!" I let out all the air I've been holding. "I know how much I love him, but I couldn't have that kind of... of..." I glance across at Alistair, watching him as he moves. It's so much easier for men, so much less responsibility for their actions.

"Intimate relationship?" She suggests.

"Yes, that kind of relationship, knowing it might stop me from facing the Archdemon. What kind of Grey Warden gets pregnant during a Blight?" I look down at my own flat stomach and run my hand down it.

"Did you think about perhaps not having the relationship at all?" Her question surprises me and I gawp. She may look grandmotherly, but her eyes are blue chips of ice and there is a formidable coldness in the set of her mouth.

I shake my head, my jaw closing with a snap. "Not an option. I couldn't do that to him." I can see her about to argue again so I continue. "Help me or don't help me. That's your choice. But there is no way I am joining the ranks of people who have let him down, disappointed him, or rejected him. He is the finest man I have ever met and I intend to stay by his side for as long as he needs me."

Her lips purse into a thin line and she bows her head back to her work. "I was merely offering an opinion. Come back to me in a couple of days and, I'll make you something. Your devotion to duty is commendable."

"Thank you." I nod stiffly and stand up. I ponder mentioning the Fade sharing and the insanity bombshell that Genetivi dropped on us earlier, but from the way she's grinding and pounding away at the healing ingredients in her mixing bowl, I think that now might not be the best time.

I speak to Leliana and Morrigan about taking watch later before I starting to prepare dinner. I can feel that Alistair's fighting practise is helping with his unease. But for now, I prefer to stoke my fear. My over reaction to Wynne was because I know deep down that she is right. For so many more reasons than Wynne realises, her option might be the only one that allows us to survive. Leaving Alistair, betraying our love. Would physical separation by day help with the shared Fade at night? Would it delay the onset of madness? Is the madness inevitable either way? It's all so confusing. I need to think.

"Need help with anything, my dear?" A golden brown arm hooks the vegetables away from me and all I can see are the elf's pearly white teeth.

"Yes. Yes, I think I do." I take Zevran's hand and gaze intently into his eyes. "I have a favour to ask."


	15. Chapter 15

Much thanks once more to Aaliia & Desertwillow. And sorry for the stress of the ending of the last chapter! Hope this one will help ease that pain.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

It's the first time I've been inside Zevran's tent. I'm surprised to see how homely he makes it. There's a patterned blanket over his bedroll, his armour is stacked neatly near the entranceway and dried herbs and poisonous plants are hanging from the wooden tent poles. The smell reminds me of a spice market, rich and mysterious and I feel a little dizzy.

As we enter I see him move a portrait from beside his bedroll and tuck it into his stacked armour. He turns to face me, sitting cross legged on the bedroll and with his hands on his knees. I hesitate in the entrance, but I can hear Alistair is still with Sten. I should be safe in here for a little while.

He pats the bedroll and tilts his head, so that his hair sways prettily. "Come in, my lady. You said you had need of me in my tent. What exciting activities do you have in mind?"

I roll my eyes and shuffle into the tent on my knees, closing the flap behind me. Zevran cocks an eyebrow, but sits patiently waiting for me to speak. I drop my gaze, wondering how to start, when I notice that he is tracing the embroidery on his boots. The boots I gave him earlier.

"They do look good on you," I say, pointing.

His eyes narrow and he snorts, moving his hands to rest on his knees once more. "So…you gave a gift and now it's time to pay, yes?"

"What? No, no that's not it. I..." I brush the stray hair away from my eyes and take a breath. "I'm sorry, I'm not here about the boots. They are yours, a gift. I'm here about the Grey Wardens tale."

"Again with this? But they are just fairy stories. Tales for young boys, fighting and fair maidens, dragons and treasure. Why do we need secrecy?" He leans forward, dropping his voice. "You wish to try out some of the naughtier stories, no? Not much room in here, but if you bend over like so..."

When I don't react, he grins at me and laughs, wagging a finger. The tattoo on his cheek curves deliciously as his blonde hair swings and his eyes glitter. "You're getting better, my dear. When we first met, I could draw a blush in seconds."

"That's because I learned you're all talk. I'm safe with you."

"I am safe, you think?" His mouth draws down and he slinks onto his hands and knees, approaching me so that he is inches from me. "I could paralyze you like this - poof." A dagger appears in his hand, the cold blade pressed against my neck. "I could kill you now and be gone before anyone knew what had happened."

He leans closer still, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks. Softer than Alistair's, they taste of cloves and cinnamon. Strands of silken hair caress my cheek but I am transfixed by his eyes. "Or better yet, while you were paralyzed I could make love to you; hold you in my arms, have you screaming in pleasure, your body begging me to continue."

This is the first time since I've met the assassin that I have felt danger. I keep control of my emotions by running through the Chant of Light in my head. I really don't need Alistair to get a sniff of fear from me and then find out where I am. I press forward, feeling the dagger parting my skin, a slow trickle of blood running down my throat. His eyes widen as my lips press more firmly against his own for a moment. "If I screamed anything, it would be Alistair's name." I lean back just far enough that his lips stop touching my own.

Zevran doesn't move for a heartbeat, then another. Finally he lowers his dagger and slides back to his bedroll to sit. "Definitely getting better," he chuckles, but he won't look me in the eye.

My neck is still cool from his blade and my skin is crawling, but I manage a smile. "Zev, I know you say you don't remember much, but we were talking about the Fade sharing?"

"Yes, yes," he snaps, rolling his eyes. "So many stories? What do you wish to know? How they chose to make love anywhere and everywhere? How they could make love for hours due to their Grey Warden stamina. Or my personal favourite, how they worked their way through whole brothels, claiming that if one of them had sex, the other was enjoying it too?"

"What? They... with others?" I think about how I can feel Alistair's pleasure myself, how the sensations against his skin resonate in my own body. But to make love to someone else? "Surely these were just tales told in a brothel to enhance their own involvement in the legend? How could they love each other and do _that_?"

Zevran shrugs, his golden skin rippling. "You Fereldens. You see sex as some holy act to express your pure love and devotion. We Antivan's know that it is just one more bodily function like sleeping or eating. Either you eat all your meals with a knife and fork, or sometimes you can eat with your fingers and let the juice run down your chin."

He sees the expression of pain on my face and tuts softly, running his thumb down my cheek. "Who knows what part of a legend is true? I can only repeat what I know. If one felt pleasure, so did the other. So they both made love to different people, and the experience was said to be exquisite."

I close my eyes, rubbing my forehead. This wasn't helping me figure out what to do. They stayed together without going insane, but what if that was because of how they lived? I realise that Zevran is still talking.

"...Driving the horde back. They retired to Antiva, where they lived like kings. Even the Crows respected them. They lived there for many years, twenty, thirty, then they disappeared. That is all I know."

"Wait, what? They lived thirty years?" I manage.

"Why yes, this is normal, no? What else did you expect?" His laugh sounds like water splashing across crystal. Beautiful and cold. He tilts his head again, like a predator examining its prey and I need to get away.

"Thank you," I manage as I stumble out of the tent. I can hear his laughter chiming behind me at my ungainly exit.

#

Compared to Zevran's, my own tent seems drab and a little grim. The bedroll is adorned with specks of mud and the only other splash of colour is a large bloodstain near the entranceway.

I've just finished sharpening my sword when I feel Alistair approaching. I don't look up as he crawls inside, closing the flaps behind him. He hesitates and I see from the corner of my eye that he's dragging his fingers through his hair.

"Do you want me to go?" he asks.

I push my sword underneath my stacked plate armour and shake my head. "Stay, please. Could we not talk though? I mean, I will, but maybe tonight we could just rest? I'm so very tired." I feel guilty playing the injured card, but I couldn't lie to Alistair about anything important. It is hard to see his face in the darkness, but I pat the bedroll next to me, ignoring the fear rolling through the tent. "Please, my love. Let's rest. We have plenty of time to talk on the way to the temple tomorrow."

"As you wish, my love." He pulls me down onto the bedroll beside him and wraps himself around me like a living blanket. He smiles at me, kissing my eyelids before relaxing at my side.

It's would be easy to fall asleep cradled in his arms warm and safe, but I need to forget the taste of spices on my tongue. I kiss him gently, licking his lips, tasting the sweet honey of his mouth. I close my eyes and feel him kissing back, feeling comfortable and happy and loved. The blanket of warmth that shrouds me intensifies, emanating from his mouth, washing over me in billowing waves.

And I'm sitting on the edge of the bed in the Fade with Alistair standing in front of me. His face is a myriad of emotions, his amber eyes full of torment and longing.

Alistair is gazing at me with the strangest look on his face—his eyes wide and his mouth open slightly as he pants softly. One eyebrow is raised and the traces of a grin rest on the corners of his mouth. I blush, fighting for words to say, but I can think of nothing.

He walks toward me, his feet making no sound, and takes hold of my arms. With an unusual firmness, he pushes me back on the bed, sliding me up so that my head rests on the pillows. His eyes fall away from mine and look down on my body—he releases a breath that is long and heavy.

"My turn," he looks back to my face with a tender smile. He hovers over me on his hands and knees, layering feathery kisses along my ribs, up over my breasts and up my neck to my lips. "I love you; I want to feel your pleasure." As he utters the last word, he looks into my eyes and places a tender kiss on my mouth. My breath hitches as his lips move against mine sensuously, kissing the corner of my mouth and my upper lip as I reach up to him and he bends low to me. Alistair is so much larger than I am, taller and wide with muscle and built so that when he bends over me I am nearly surrounded by him.

I feel a tremor run through my body as I realise the truth. My intense love for him reflecting back is almost frightening and I understand that he has claimed my life, for better or worse. I cannot see any possible future without him, as vague and foreboding as our future seems to be.

I need him. I am not going to hide that because of a possible future. I long to feel more of him, to have him touch me. My desire burns through me and I can see the effect on him.

"I've thought about you all day," he whispers against my neck. "Thought about touching you, tasting you."

I wrap my arms around him slowly, feeling his muscles shift beneath his soft skin. I press my lips to his, enthralled at how warm and sweet tasting his mouth is. His kiss takes every worry and fear away and warms me to my soul. I never want to leave his arms as they wrap around my waist. My knees begin to shake and my heart feels like it is going to jump right out of my chest. Alistair draws back, leaving me breathless. He leans over me, devouring my body with his eyes.

Kissing his way down my body, his cool lips leave my skin shivering in their wake. He pauses at my breasts and runs his tongue lightly around my nipples. I am lost to the sensation of his wet tongue and the softness of his mouth. I feel so small and delicate, his feelings wrapping with my own into a tempest so strong I can do nothing but lie still and let him love me.

I gasp when I feel his lips surround one aching nipple. He flicks the hard nub with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. The feeling inside me flares up again, setting my body on fire. With every caress of his tongue, every tug of his mouth, my arousal soars that much higher. His thigh rubs between my legs with a wondrous pressure.

He cups my other breast and flicks the already hard nipple with his thumb, before taking it between his thumb and forefinger and pinching gently. I'm not sure how much time has passed, but it feels like an eternity by the time he pulls away to admire my body. I feel my stomach tighten in response to him; his wide amber eyes, those cheeks, flushed pink with arousal, his damp lips slightly parted. I can feel the hardness of his erection pressing against my thigh and my stomach flips over.

He crushes his mouth against mine once again, drawing out a moan as he runs his hands down my sides, resting on them on my hips. He continues the kiss as he moves one hand to cup my bottom. I tense slightly, a little scared, but he reassures me with his eyes and his tongue. He caresses my thighs, squeezing the curves and skirting around the core of me.

I arch my back and moan against his mouth, the desire torturing me. I want to feel him. "Alistair, please, I need you." I whisper against his lips.

He stops kissing me, but keeps his gaze locked onto mine as his fingers slide up my inner thigh, up... I call upon all my willpower to hold on against the sudden rush of pleasure. It's not successful, and I let out a very loud moan.

His face creases into a smile, and he sweeps his fingers against me again. My hips arch upwards, pressing his thumb against my most sensitive area. I feel the pressure increase and I tremble. "Yes, there."

"You're so warm, you feel amazing," he breathes. He breaks eye contact and slides down the bed, dropping kisses on my breasts and stomach, before resting between my thighs. I sit up slightly, watching his expression of wonderment as his fingers explore me. He is so sensitive to my reactions, he quickly understands how to touch me.

I almost faint when I feel him slide a trembling finger inside me. My hips buck involuntarily, but he moves his hand with me. I feel filled, complete, in a way I hadn't even realised I needed. He pulls his hand back slowly then slides it forward again. He repeats this pattern as his face moves closer. I feel his hot breath on me and I call out his name. He looks up to catch my gaze, before he dips his head and flickers his tongue against me.

All the strength leaves my body and I collapse back against the pillows. His fingers keep their pace and his tongue moves faster and faster, getting more forceful with every stroke.

I hear myself moaning his name, but I'm lost as my whole body shudders. The pleasure lifts me up as wave after wave of sensation batters against me. Just as I think I can't take it, that I'll collapse or faint, the sensations wane.

He crawls up the bed to press against my side. I want to move or kiss him, but I don't have the energy. I lie panting beneath his satisfied smile.

"I love you." He brushes my hair away from my face and kisses my lips softly. "Forever. However long that is for us, I'll be here."

I reach up and cup his cheek, feeling my eyes welling with tears. "Always."

#

Zevran is stealthed, but the dawn light picks out his shape sitting at the entrance to the tent. I flip the flap open and make a shooing motion with my hands.

"Much better," he purrs. "It seems your lover has some bedroom skills, after all."

"One day, he'll hear you and he will kill you," I threaten, just as Alistair rolls over with the kind of cute snore you'd expect to hear from a baby pig. I drop my face into my hands as Zevran chuckles.

"I am quivering in my boots, dear lady. Please, I am so scared of your mighty warrior."

I need him to leave before Alistair wakes, so I threaten to set Morrigan on him. He likes that idea and slips away to go annoy her.

When Alistair does awaken, he rolls onto his back, arms behind his head, with a lazy grin on his face. I feel my cheeks heat and drop my eyes at the knowing expression in his gaze. I rest my head on his chest, feeling his heart drumming against my ear.

"I think I woke up before you had chance for anything..." I say.

"Doesn't matter, my love." His voice rumbles. "Your pleasure is my pleasure. I'm just so happy that I can make you feel that way."

And I lie against his chest, thinking of his words, of our shared pleasures and of the Antivan Grey Wardens.


	16. Chapter 16

I really appreciate all your kind words and reviews. They make struggling to write a chapter a day all worth it! :)

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Alistair and I leave the others packing up the camp and follow Brother Genetivi up the mountain toward Andraste's hidden temple. Walking through snow in plate armour is tiring and cold. Any exposed skin stings whenever it touches the metal and I know I'm going to need a lot of poultices when we're back in camp. The area itself it glorious though, snow white mountain peaks, pale wintery sunshine and thick pine trees, their scent refreshing.

Zevran and Wynne bring up the rear, with Zevran flirting outrageously until Wynne threatens to turn him into a toad. Her youthful pink cheeks tell the truth -in that she is enjoying the attention.

Leaving them to their banter, I take Alistair's hand and squeeze it. "So, this whole going mad and dying thing..."

"Ah yes, Brother Genetivi's present. So, what about it?"

"Well, you know how he was talking about the Hossberg couple, something and Galla..." I explain.

"Alaric." Alistair reminds me.

"Yes, that's right. Him. Remember it was Duncan who told us about the Antivan couple..." A strange expression flits across Alistair's face and I feel relief radiating from him. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he grins at me. "Continue, please."

"Anyway, I know Genetivi didn't know much about them, so I thought, well it's Antiva..."

"So you asked the Antivan!" Alistair beams at me. "Maker, that is such a relief."

"Wait, you _knew_ I spoke to Zevran?" I ask, surprised when Alistair nods rapidly. "Andraste's knickers! You saw me go in his tent and your head didn't explode?"

"For a moment or two, okay, ten, I wanted to behead that slimy bastard more than anything. Then my mind cleared, and I realised… how much you love me. You'd never hurt me and certainly not with him!" He shrugs. "So I knew you'd tell me what you were doing when you felt more comfortable."

I keep walking automatically, my mind working furiously. "You're... not angry?"

"Okay," he laughs. "Truthfully the only reason I didn't berserk into the tent and smash him into the ground was by reciting the Chant of Light over and over in my head."

I burst out laughing, grabbing his arm. "Me too! I kept running through it in my head so you wouldn't feel how uncomfortable I was and worry what was wrong."

"So," His eye catches mine and the smile fades. "What did you talk about?"

"Mainly the Antivan Wardens." I feel a slight pang of guilt at my ambiguous reply.

"Mainly?" Alistair asks.

This sharing of my emotions can be problematic at times. "It's Zevran, of course he had to make a few jokes about _having_ me alone in his tent." I roll my eyes.

Alistair presses his lips together. "And the Wardens? Did he know anything?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact he did," I pause and look up at the beautiful snowy mountains. They rise above us like majestic guardians, rocky arms raised to the sky. A lone bird circles above, and for a moment I consider the possibility of Morrigan spying on us.

"What did he say?" Alistair's fingers squeeze mine, drawing my attention back to himself.

"They survived for twenty or thirty years, he's not sure which. They weren't insane, they didn't suicide. But..."

"Ah, I knew there had to be a but..." he sighs.

"They were very... Antivan. Zevran-like." Alistair raises an eyebrow and I scrunch my nose up and huff. I glance over my shoulder and see that Zevran and Wynne have dropped further behind. He seems to be throwing snowballs at her.

"You know how… How if I feel pleasure, you do too?" I can't stop myself from blushing, but I see him reacting similarly as he nods. "Well, apparently they had the idea that if they were with other people, at the same time, then it would be... what was the word Zev used? _'Exquisite_.'"

I feel his emotions shift rapidly as he thinks though what I've I said. But the wrinkled nose and disapproving set of his mouth tells me what I wanted to hear.

"What was wrong with some people? Is it an Antivan thing to jump anything with a pulse?" he sneers. "If they loved each other, they could have stayed with each other! It's not so hard."

"Maybe they found that it helped with the sharing, the madness." I venture.

"Well, it would make me go mad to share you with anyone else." Alistair wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his side. "Are you sure it's not just one of his chat-up lines?"

"No, I'm not sure," I sigh. "It's the first thing I thought of too."

"Well, put this together with the other couple going insane, and all we know is that we don't know what will happen to us." He looks down at me and a small smile curves his lips, his eyes warm, hair glowing like burnished bronze in the light. "But, who ever does?"

"Don't ever call yourself an idiot again." I manage, my throat tight, tears threatening to fall. "That was... profound."

He grins but before he can reply I pull his head down to my own, and lift my arms to wrap behind his head. His cheek is warm and as I brush my lips across his jawline, I feel his skin flush beneath my touch. Alistair releases a long breath, turning his cheek into my kiss as I brush his skin with my lips once more. The stubble scratches against me, but I am entranced by the taste of honey on his lips. My fingers run delicately through his hair, my arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"No, no, please _do not_ stop. This is so exciting to watch, you are driving me mad with desire."

I open my eyes and lean back to see Zevran peering up at us, his eyelashes fluttering. Wynne is just behind him, her hand covering her mouth as she tries to hide a smile. I notice that she seems to have a very damp robe, especially around her chest and wonder what on Thedas Zevran has been up to.

Alistair pushes me away and draws his sword in one smooth movement, but Zevran is already skipping up the hill, his laughter bouncing between the high mountainsides.

The laughter stops as soon as we arrive at the temple. It is a dark, forbidding place; the walls drip icicles and the whole place stinks of decay. Genetivi manages to get us inside, but he chooses to stay near the entrance, studying the many carvings.

There are still Dragon Cult members hiding out inside the temple, attacking us occasionally as we go deeper into the mountainside. The mages give us a little trouble, but we manage to get to the heart of the structure without any major injuries.

There we're confronted by the leaders of the cult, who have the bizarre belief that Andraste has been reborn as a dragon. At least that explains the number of drakes spewing fire at us. I feel half cooked inside my plate armour.

The cult leader doesn't take kindly to us killing his followers but after a brief disagreement and more blood on the icy floor, we pass out of the temple to the top of the mountain. The crumbling marble walkway looks ancient and I wonder when the temple was built.

And though the sun is shining on the snow-capped mountains around us with an ethereal beauty, we are all transfixed by the monster ahead of us. Sixty feet high, with red wings of at least twice that spread, the dragon lays above us on a ledge. Unblinking emerald eyes stare down across the mountaintop, the only sign of life the slow in-out bellows movements of its sides as it breathes.

"A high dragon? We're not... planning on actually fighting it, are we? Couldn't we just... sneak around it?" Zevran slips into stealth and stands behind Alistair.

"For once, I agree with the Antivan," Alistair says, his eyes fixed on the dragon. "Think we can make it across to there?" He points at a doorway in the mountainside opposite us.

"Let's find out." I draw my blade and start out across the icy plain.

The dragon doesn't even blink or acknowledge us in any way and we feel both relieved and disappointed to make it inside safely.

Flaming torches serve only to make the deep shadows dance around the massive carved pillars. There is a tall man standing before a huge oak door, his beard long, his eyes tired. I don't know if he is a man or a spirit, but he seems happy that we have come to honour Andraste. We must pass a gauntlet of tests to prove our faith. For a moment, I wish I'd brought Leliana with us, but I hope that our intentions will be pure enough.

It is when agree to proceed that he asks the tough questions.

"Before you go, there is something I must ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past. Your suffering… and the suffering of others. You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy. Do you think you failed your parents?"

I try not to react, but I know Alistair feels my pain. "Yes, I should have defended them to the death."

I feel Alistair put a hand on my shoulder and I lean my cheek onto it. "You are too hard on yourself. No one's perfect," his voice betrays his anger.

The Guardian focuses on Alistair now, his voice a slow monotone. "Alistair, you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield."

I lift my hand to his where it lays on my shoulder and squeeze it tight, holding it to my cheek.

"You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder if you should have died, and not him?"

"I… yes," Alistair murmurs. "If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I'd just had the chance… maybe…"

I don't hear his question to Wynne as I turn and hold Alistair's face in my hands. We don't speak and just look into each others eyes. We share our pain and it is somehow lessened.

Wynne's annoyed retort drags me back to the room and I hear her admit that she doubts herself sometimes.

"And the Antivan elf..." The Guardian moves slowly, his head creaking around to glare at Zevran balefully. "Many have died at your hand. But is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of Ri..."

"How do you know about that?" Zevran snaps. It's unusual to see his smiling veneer crack.

"I know much. The question stands, however. Do you regret..."

"Yes. The answer is yes, if that's what you wish to know. I do. Now move on." Zevran is looking down at the daggers in his hands, his cheeks unnaturally pale. I remember the portrait he had in his tent and speculate.

"The way is open. Good luck and may you find what you seek." The Guardian closes his eyes with a sigh, and the oak door creaks open.

Eight shadowy spirits sigh and whisper about their role in the life of Andraste as we walk through the crumbling halls. Their voices sound like leaves in the wind, or rain running across cobbles as their blank eyes gaze out across the Fade to us.

As I enter the next room, I falter. A man stands silhouetted in the distance. His shape is so familiar to me, it hits me like a punch to the gut.

"Father?" I whisper. Alistair is at my side instantly, his arm supporting me around my shoulders. "You mock the memory of my father, whatever you are."

"My dearest child," and the voice recalls memories of my previous life. I hear the bustling of the guards, smell Nan's bread baking and see Mother and Father hugging under the bower. "You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and wishes will not bring me back."

A sob escapes my throat - this _is_ my Father. I feel it in my bones, the way that he moves, how his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, the warmth in his voice. My knees weaken and I lean into Alistair's side.

"I see the pain and anger you carry. I know you fear to give it voice, but rest assured my child, the Maker knows your heart." He smiles and I feel the ghostly brush of his fingertips on my cheek. "I love you, Pup."

I slide down onto my knees, the plate clanking on the floor and I tilt my head back and sob. I haven't allowed myself to think of my family since Ostagar and now, all of the dammed up pain comes flooding out of me. Alistair's strength flows into me as he leans closer, silently holding me. His calm washes over me and I close my eyes and rub my forehead, trying to control the tears.

A warm hand touches my arm and I open my eyes to see Zevran kneeling next to me.

"I would give anything, no, everything for one more chance to speak to her," his hazel eyes glisten with unshed tears. "You have been blessed."

I place my hand over his and force a smile. "Thank you. You're right."

With the sigh of leather armour and the whiff of a spice market, Zevran is gone, and Alistair is helping me to my feet. I sniff and wipe my nose on my sleeve, trying desperately to pull myself together.

Wynne is eyeing me with silent concern. Probably worried that I'll collapse halfway around the gauntlet and fail in my duty. Maker forbid that I should allow myself to feel for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I... I haven't thought about my family for some time." I adjust my pauldrons and tuck the stray hairs behind my ears, holding my chin high. "Let's go."

We pass through the rest of the gauntlet with relative ease. Spectral copies of ourselves, bridges that require trust and teamwork. That one requires some thinking and arguing, but it is still light outside as we reach the final room.

Beyond a barrier of fire, a giant statue of Andraste looms above a burial urn. Light streams down from above as if the prophet herself smiles down upon us.

"By the Maker, that's Andraste's urn, it really is!" Alistair grins at me, his Chantry schooling showing in his boyish excitement.

I walk toward flames and feel the heat scorching me. The inferno completely blocks the path to the urn. A nearby pedestal has an inscription carved on the side that Wynne reads aloud.

"Hmm, it says 'Cast off the trappings of a worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.' Does that mean what I think it does?"

I'm already unbuckling my plate armour, hopping on one foot to tug off a boot. Wynne and Zevran join in, with Alistair standing there muttering.

"Alistair, we _have_ to do this. Come on, we're all going to feel stupid." I coax him.

I'm shivering in my smallclothes when he's still fumbling with his armour. I can hear Zevran teasing Wynne, something about bosoms that makes her flush again. I remind myself to ask her about that conversation later.

Then Zevran appears and starts to unbuckle the other side of Alistair's plate. Alistair yelps and tries to squirm away, but I restrain him. "Stop being a baby and hurry up."

Zevran rolls his eyes at me, a tight smile across his face. I'm distracted to see that his tattoos aren't restricted to his face. They flow all over his torso, accentuating the muscular lines of his body. As he moves to help Alistair, they shift and alter, creating a beautiful rippling effect. He catches me watching and lightly strokes the back of his hand down his chest to just above his smallclothes and winks.

"Sometimes I wish I could stealth." I grumble, reddening at his melodious laughter.

"Ah, so you could sit listening outside _my_ tent all night for a change? Tsk, tsk, you naughty minx." Zevran wags a finger at me.

Alistair tries to swing around to see us, but is held in place by half-removed armour. "Whaaaat? Thess, what is he talking about? Who sits outside tents listening?"

"Just ignore the insane assassin, let's finish this." I remove his back piece and step away. Side by side, I hardly even notice Zevran. Alistair is just so tall and broad, his tanned body accented by the tiny white scars so beautifully that I find myself staring.

"Thess!" He blushes and folds his arms, shifting his weight.

"No, no, she's right. You truly are a sight to behold." Zevran looks Alistair up and down slowly, licking his lips.

"Honestly, I feel like I'm surrounded by children. Kissing this and griffons that..." Wynne strides through the flames, with Alistair hurrying close behind her. He looks just as enticing from the rear.

"Shall we my dear?" Zevran takes my hand and we step through the fire unharmed.

I pull my hand back with a tiny shrug and step up to Alistair's side. He stares at the urn, awestruck. "I didn't think anyone could ever succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place... but here She is."

I kneel before the ornate golden urn and look at the statue in front of me. Andraste holds a living flame, and her marble face looks tragic. I open the urn and take a small pinch of ashes carefully with a potion glass.

As we head outside, I think about Andraste—who she was, how she became a prophet. Surely she was just a girl, fighting for her country with her love beside her. She only became a legend because the Chantry decided to turn her into one. I don't believe that is why she fought, to be become some symbolic mystical being, so that strangers desecrate her tomb. For the first time, I wonder what the world will say about us, once the Archdemon is dead.

As we appear on the mountaintop, a howling wind roars above us. There is a deafening screech and then we're knocked from our feet. I struggle to my knees in time to see Alistair charging towards the High Dragon alone.

* * *

Speakfire - one of those Zevran lines was in there just for me to torture you - guess which one!


	17. Chapter 17

Once again, thanks for your reviews and thanks to my two very helpful beta readers :)

* * *

**Chapter 17**

By the time I join Alistair, Zevran is behind the dragon, attacking the soft underbelly. Alistair is using all his strength to hold on to his shield as the beast rakes its claws at him. I use his distraction to thrust my greatsword upwards towards the dragon's throat but my lack of height and strength mean that I only graze the flesh. It roars in fury and flies away.

Zevran stealthes and Alistair and I brace ourselves as the dragon circles above. I see Wynne crouching beside a ruined pillar, her staff held high and her hands twisting around as she spins her spells.

The dragon lands with a crash behind us and I throw my shoulder against Alistair's back to brace him. The monster lunges towards Alistair's shield, the monstrous teeth scraping against it and spraying us with blood and saliva. We both slide backwards across the snow a few feet. A baleful emerald eye glares at us as the dragon snorts, flames licking around our feet.

I feel the ache in Alistair's arms and shoulder settling into my own, my grip on my sword loosening. I push myself away from Alistair's back and swing my greatsword at the eye, the tip scratching along the smaller scales just below. They rip open, blood running down the blade to my arm. With a shriek, the dragon rears up onto its hind legs and claws at its face.

"The head," Alistair shouts to Zevran. "It's weak around the head!"

There's a whirl of gold and brown as Zevran sprints along the dragon's tail onto its back. He uses his daggers as handholds when the dragon leaps up into the sky to shake him off.

I drop my sword a moment, my hands trembling at Alistair's pain. I see him still holding onto his sword and shield, his knuckles white. Leaning against his side, I try to catch my breath as I watch Zevran.

The dragon spins and whirls in the air, but Zevran slowly drags himself along its body with his daggers. He's close to its head when it turns and dives straight down at us. Alistair shoves me facedown on the floor and throws himself on top of me as it flies close above us, fire dripping from its mouth as it screeches. The scent of sulphur and ash smothers me.

The heat is intense and I know it's because I feel Alistair's pain as well as my own. Doubled up like this, I can barely move; my breath catching in my throat. I feel Alistair having the same problem as he coughs above me. The pain intensifies and just as I think I can't take it any longer, a cooling white mist covers us both. It soothes the burns on my face and the pain drifts away. Alistair's breathing stabilises and he slides off me onto the snow. I roll onto my back and see the dragon landing nearby.

Zevran somersaults forward onto its head, a dagger in each hand as he slams them down into the dragon's skull. It shrieks and shakes; the movement only aiding Zevran as he forces the blades deeper. And with one final shudder, it is over.

Alistair pushes himself to his knees, holding himself upright by leaning on his sword. The Heal spell has helped somewhat, but we're both bone-tired. I push myself up and stumble over to Alistair. He places his hand over mine, our blood drenched gauntlets sticking together. Gripping onto his shoulders as he kneels, I feel our mutual pain ebbing away.

Zevran is underneath the dragon's corpse, methodically hacking away at the scales. He seems unconcerned by the blood and internal organs oozing around him. I see Wynne checking him over, but he looks unharmed and unconcerned. Typical. She throws me a faint smile before she sinks onto a nearby rock, her head in her hands.

Alistair is back on his feet and breathing normally again when Zevran re-appears, dragging a number of the larger scales on his back. His hair is matted into clumps, dripping with blood and other vile smelling liquids. His leather armour is a dark brown, the blood seeped into the material making it creak ominously.

"Ugh, you stink." Alistair grimaces.

Zevran shifts the scales on his back and straightens up to glare at Alistair. "In Antiva, it is widely known that the best defensive plate in all of Thedas is made from dragonscale. I did not want to pass up on the opportunity for you."

"I... ah... I see. Thank you, I think." Alistair looks at his feet.

"No need to thank me. If I improve your chances, my own chance of survival also increases, yes?" Zevran stalks past us to Wynne's side. He shifts the scales once more so that he can hook an arm out for her to hold. She smiles gratefully and stands, leaning on him.

"See, he does have a kind side." I nudge Alistair as we follow them back through the echoing temple.

"He is probably using it as an excuse to grope her," he grumbles, his frown fading as I laugh.

Genetivi is thrilled by our discovery and plans his return to Denerim to gather a group to help uncover all of the temples secrets. His eyes flick to me and Alistair as we stand arm in arm in front of him and he offers to give us any more information on Fade sharing, if we come visit him. Wynne peers at me then, but I usher us out of there back to the camp without speaking to her.

#

Leliana doesn't leave me alone. While the camp is torn down, I am forced to sit and explain everything about the temple and Andraste's resting place in as much detail as I can muster. She leans on my arm, gasping at the tales and constantly touching my hair and hugging me. I see from Zevran's expression that he isn't as naive as I was. He is watching every touch, every caress with a raised eyebrow and a very suggestive smile. I roll my eyes at him and gently disentangle myself from the little red-head, pointing to the packing that I have to do as we need to set off soon. Zevran pouts but leaves to finish his own packing.

As I trail behind Zevran towards my tent, I watch the confident way he moves. He has grown up knowing he is beautiful, knowing he is wanted, almost the exact opposite of Alistair.

Alistair has packed most of my things when I arrive, but I can see from the set of his shoulders that he's deep in thought. I taste our emotions, but I can't sense anything untoward.

"All packed, love? Or can I help?" I ask.

He waves his hand over to the backpacks to indicate that it is done, but he doesn't look at me. He's gazing into the fire as he fastens the strap on the tent bag. "What did he mean by listening outside tents?"

"Of all the things we have to worry about..." I roll my eyes.

"I worry about what worries me." His eyes are dark. "Tell me."

"A few times, when I've woken up early, Zevran has been sitting by the fire." I shrug. "He teases me about you is all. Your snoring, for one."

"Is that all he... wait, I do not snore." He drops the backpack and grabs me with a wicked smile. "If anyone has terrible night time habits around here, it's Little Miss Drool All Over Alistair's Shoulder In The Night."

"I don't drool - that's slander!" I swat his chest. "I _may_ admit to the odd morning of waking up with the bedroll stuck to my cheek but..."

"Hah!" He laughs and kisses my nose, before raising an eyebrow again. "You didn't distract me though. You can tell your friend, _the assassin_, that if he creeps around while I'm sleeping again, he's going to find himself dead. Okay?"

"I'll pass along your message." I take a moment to enjoy the warmth of his body against my own through our leather clothing. "Now, Wynne gets first nap in Bodahn's cart, then you... Don't argue. I felt the punishment you took from that dragon, you need the sleep. I'll go third. I want to make Redcliffe tomorrow."

He frowns, running his hands up and down my back. "I was hoping we might have some time together tonight. I'm sure they can make room in the cart for us both."

"Only if we make the others carry more. Wouldn't make me such a great leader, would it?" I feel his desire fluttering at the edge of my perception and my stomach tightens.

"I don't know, I can think of one follower you'd make _very_ happy," and he presses himself against me, a hard ridge rubbing against my hip.

"Alistair!" I feel his desire cascading against my own, my nipples hardening as they rub against him. "Okay, stop. There's something I need to... seriously, move that hand..."

He smiles unrepentantly and slides his palm back up to my hip. He still distracts me by rubbing his thumb in large circles, but I ignore it.

"When we sleep," I continue. "And this is something that Zevran has commented on, we both make noises. You know umm... happy noises?"

Alistair's face goes white. "What... he's heard us? Are you saying he listens to that...?"

"If we're both on the cart, everyone will hear," I continue.

"But, are you saying that _he_ has heard...?" He frowns, his grip no longer as tight and our desire dampening down quickly.

"Alistair, we've _all_ heard!" Morrigan snaps from the trees to our left. "You sound like a rutting baboon."

"No," I hear Sten's low voice all the way from his post by the fire. "A pig. Or perhaps a bear. Deeper than a baboon."

I close my eyes and rest my head on Alistair's chest, wishing that they would all just go away and leave us alone for once.

#

We're making good time back to Redcliffe. Morrigan is scouting ahead in bird form with Sten below her as we follow close behind.

But I'm grumpy. Alistair stole the last few cookies that I'd managed to hide in my backpack and he's unrepentantly rubbing his stomach and trying to stifle the odd tiny belch. I frown at him, but he gives me puppy dog eyes as if that makes it okay. I mouth 'I'll get you back' but he just laughs and pats his stomach again. Fine.

It's as Zevran walks alongside me that I realise I have an opportunity to pay Alistair back. The elf keeps teasing me, whispering comments on what he's overheard, asking what Alistair did, which techniques he tried. He's ribbed me so often now; I'm immune to his bawdy remarks.

"Don't do it, Zev - you've seen how big Alistair is. He _will_ pummel you," I warn.

"My dear lady, it's precisely because I have seen how _big_ he is that I dream of him... pummelling me," he drawls loudly. I hear Alistair snort behind me and it makes me laugh. Leliana draws closer, hooking her arm around mine with a wicked grin.

"Ah yes," I sigh. "I am a lucky woman."

"Oh, you know? I thought that you two were still not fully_... intimate_ yet..." he asks. Out of the corner of my eye I see Alistair's face turn a strange purple colour and I drop my voice to a deliberately loud stage whisper.

"Trust me, Zevran. I've seen Alistair... hmm what's a good term, at the ready? Standing to attention? It's..." I sigh dramatically. "Magnificent."

"Oi stop it, I can hear you lot. Maker, it's worse than you and Leliana, 'How long does it last? How fast does he go? How big is it?'" Alistair throws his hands up into the air and stomps ahead, his cheeks blazing.

"Can I ask those questions? I'd like to know... truly," Zevran shouts at his back as he follows.

I wait until Leliana and I are alone, bringing up the rear behind the cart where Wynne is sleeping before I spring the big question. She is incredibly excited and I have to remind her to speak quietly, but once she calms down, she holds my attention until it's my turn to sleep. She gives me _a lot_ to think about.

#

It is past noon when we arrive at Redcliffe again, and I ask the party to set up camp on the cliffs next to the castle and take Alistair with me.

Bann Teagan is waiting for us by the courtyard gates and he rushes forward, shaking Alistair's hand and embracing me briefly.

"You return? Do you have news...?" He asks.

"Teagan," I pull the glass container from my backpack with a grin. "We have the ashes."

"Oh, my lady, thank you." He moves to hug me again then remembers himself and takes my hand, pressing it to his lips. "You are a miracle worker sent by the Maker himself."

The castle is much improved. The stones look scrubbed and the rooms smell of jasmine, while fresh tapestries adorn the walls. As we get inside, I pause and ask Alistair if he can speak to the kitchens about restocking our cart with supplies. He frowns a little, but nods and disappears.

"Ah, good. I must to speak to you alone." Teagan ushers me into Eamon's study.

"And I you," I sit in a chair opposite the wide desk. "But please, you first, ser. My own reasons are unimportant."

Teagan paces at the window for a moment, before sitting behind the desk. He runs his hand along the caved oak, his expression grim. "I saw Loghain in Denerim. He has declared himself regent and tries to force the Bannorn to follow him, without question."

"But Teagan, surely..." I bite my lip.

"Do not worry, the Bannorn will not bow to him simply because he demands it. But for me, the most interesting thing is the role Anora is playing. She is obviously torn between trusting her father and hating him for killing her husband."

"I barely know of the Queen. Surely as Cailan's uncle, you two have a relationship?"

Teagan flushes and gazes up at the painting of Arl Eamon on the wall. "Yes, we do. We have known each other since childhood. She... she trusts me. She will listen to me, if I get chance to speak to her."

I look at his flushed cheeks and nervous hands and lean forward. "…Listens to you the way _Isolde_ listens to you, ser knight?"

Teagan flushes an even deeper red, a slight smile curving his mouth. "You are too perceptive, my lady. Anora and I had... hopes... when she was younger, before Loghain pushed her onto Cailan. She still has some... friendly feelings for me, I'd wager."

I hide my smile with a hand and look out of the window. "If you could talk to her, then perhaps you could convince her that civil war will not help us to defeat an Archdemon."

"There is something else most important, my lady." Teagan's expression grows grave once more. "My brother, when he wakes. He is... of a different temperament to me. I fear that he will see the current situation and wish to use Alistair."

"Use Alistair?" Realisation dawns and I flush. "Ohhh, his birthright."

"I gather that this is not what Alistair wishes?" He sees me shake my head. "Well, Eamon has long desired a stronger presence at the Landsmeet and he would consider Alistair an easy way to accomplish his goals."

"And you do not agree ser, since you speak so plainly?"

Teagan shakes his head. "I believe that Alistair has been forced into enough things in his life. You reminded me of this yourself most effectively when we first met. I would like a chance for him to make his own decisions. I also know Eamon will have no qualms about forcing his aspirations onto Alistair. So if you are there to support Alistair..." he shrugs.

"I understand. I appreciate your honesty, Teagan, thank you. I see that I should talk to Alistair as soon as possible about the future." I lean across the desk and touch the back of his hand. "But first, I have a favour to ask about tonight."

#

The inhabitants of the castle crowd the doorway of the Arl's bedroom as I pass the bottles of ashes to Isolde. Her hands tremble as she kneels by the bed. Arl Eamon lies as if asleep, his face pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Teagan, could you...?" Isolde holds the bottle out to Teagan, the bottle shaking in her unsteady grip.

He steps up to her and takes the ashes. Opening the bottle he shakes it gently, pouring out a small pile onto his hand. Bending over Eamon, he tentatively brushes some ash onto the Arl's lips.

For a moment nothing changes and then Eamon takes a deeper breath, some colour returning to his cheeks. Teagan spreads the remaining ash onto his face and lips.

"Eamon?" Isolde wipes at his cheek with the back of her hand.

The Arl opens his eyes and blinks once or twice, before coughing. A cheer goes up behind us and the whole castle is informed of his miraculous recovery by cheers and shouts.

I take Alistair's hand and smile, feeling his relief and joy. "Shall we retire for now, Teagan? Let Isolde speak to her husband and we can all meet in the morning?"

Teagan nods to me absently, smiling at the sight of his brother speaking to Isolde.

"And, you said you needed Alistair's help with _that thing_, just for a few minutes...?" I cough into my fist.

Teagan jumps and turns to face Alistair. "Ah yes, my lady is right. Please come with me Alistair. I have a few questions about the Circle and Connor. This won't take too long and then I will return you to your good lady."

I watch them leave and my stomach churns with fear and excitement.

#

I feel stupid. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? The flagstones are cold on my bare feet and the dress is ridiculous and I hate my stupid hair... and then there's a knock at the door.

I panic. Is there time to change? Can I get him to go away? Maybe if I...

"Thess," he calls through the door. "I can tell you're in there. Can I come in?"

I take a deep breath and pull some of my long hair over my shoulder, draping it across my very exposed chest. I open the door a crack and peep out.

Alistair is standing outside the door, alone and wearing a very bemused expression. "Yes, it's really me. Can I come in?"

I take another deep breath and step back, opening the door to let him in. Alistair can see me standing there in a thin white silk chemise that barely covers my thighs. It's sleeveless, and the neckline dips low on my chest with a narrow lace trim that matches the hem.

Behind me, the room is lit by a few flicking white candles and scented with jasmine incense. A stone bath steams in the corner, filled to the brim with piping hot scented water. And finally there is a large bed in the corner that is covered with the petals torn from a dozen red roses.

"Happy birthday, my love." I smile and welcome him in.

* * *

And even with that ending, there *might* not be an update tomorrow. I've got a busy workday today and might have to work late and I _know _you want the next chapter to be right, right? :)


	18. Chapter 18

Okay, here's the update I promised you before the weekend :) Thanks to my lovely betas once more for putting in so much time & effort.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Did I make a mistake? Am I being too forward? I bite my lip and watch Alistair. He is frozen in the doorway; the light streaming in from behind him transforms his body into a silhouette.

"Teagan told me it was your birthday today before we went to Haven, that's why I rushed us back," I babble, but he still doesn't react. "We've… never done this... I wanted to try and make it a perfect time in a perfect place for us."

I glance into the deserted hallway to make sure we're alone before pulling him bodily into the room and bolting the door. I'm starting to feel ridiculous. Did I do the wrong thing?

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and he snaps it closed again. As he runs his hand through his hair, I feel his nervousness nudging at my own fear. He blinks once or twice, before a shy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry... I guess I'm a little nervous," he gulps. "Not that this is anything bad or frightening or… well, _yes_."

"I don't know, I'm scared stiff." I wrap my arms around my middle and hug myself, my toes curling up.

He laughs a little at that and our mutual fear lessens. He reaches out and tugs at my hand, staring at my smaller palm lost within his own. I feel a slight tremble in his fingers and worry again if I'm pushing him too hard.

"Every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's about to explode," he confesses. "I... I can't think straight. But I can't imagine being without you. Not ever."

He cups my chin and strokes my cheek with his thumb, his eyes dark. "Maybe this is too fast. I don't know, but… I know what I feel."

That's when the full force of his desire hits me. A potent mix of love and lust that is incomparable to anything else in the world. But when you feel that within yourself, and then the same feeling from your lover is palpable in the air around you, it is overwhelming.

I take a deep breath and nod, and Alistair takes it as an invitation. He catches my mouth with his own, our tongues meeting with a delectable sweetness. The kiss is deep and intense, making my whole body tingle with anticipation. Shivers runs through my body, setting my nerves aflame, and making me long for more.

The feel of Alistair's hand on my body sets me ablaze. His breath hitches as my own hands respond and begin to stroke over his back, my nails digging into the soft flesh. Alistair's lips settle on my sensitive neck as his thumb caresses the line of my throat, making me moan.

I feel his sudden disappointment as my hands still and I push him away.

"You," I say, "have too many clothes on."

I pull at the laces of Alistair's shirt, and he hurries to assist me. The laces are stiff and we laugh as he hops out of his boots. Once his feet are bare, I tenderly push his hands away, enjoying the sensual pleasure of removing his clothing. It is not unlike unwrapping a gift even though I have some idea of what lies beneath. As I strip his shirt over his chest, I playfully bite his nipples. He hisses between his teeth, watching me as I kneel in front of him.

"These definitely need to come off now." I stroke my hand down the front of his leather trousers where his erection pushes the leather laces open. His body is still trembling, his eyes dark and watching my every move as I push the trousers down past his hips, my breath ghosting against his flesh, though I keep my eyes on his face.

"But first, a bath," I wrinkle my nose. "While I love you desperately, you smell of the road, my dear."

He pouts, but doesn't argue, folding his long legs to sink neck-deep in the sweet-scented water. He lies back with a contented sigh as I kneel beside the bathtub. I lather up my hands and tenderly explore his body with the excuse of washing him. Touching and stroking every inch and every scar, mapping his reaction to my touch. I feel the texture of his skin under my soapy fingers and trace the contours of his muscles under the surface.

Then a sweet storm of want breaks over me out of the blue. With no warning, I'm caught in the grip of an almost violent wave of pleasure; it won't let go. It bursts upon me like a sudden blast of wind, making the blood run hot in every vessel of my body. I falter then give in, dropping my head and whimpering.

"So, this shared pleasure thing, I see it really does work..." I hear Alistair drawl slowly in a deep voice and look over at him. His mouth is open, his breathing fast and I can see from the currents in the water that his hand is moving rhythmically beneath the surface.

"That is so cheating," I complain playfully. "Come on now, hands on the side of the tub. Ohh..." I stop speaking and arch my back as another wave washes over me. "That's it..."

I tug on his arms and make him sit up a little. He grins at me like a naughty schoolboy, but follows my orders, his arms lying along the stone edges of the bath. I slide one hand into the water and swirl it around until I my fingers brush over his length. I grasp him, squeezing gently then stroke - once, twice. It is his turn to arch toward me and his moan makes my heart beat faster.

"You're being a very bad, bad man. And your punishment is that you have to keep your hands to yourself and soak in the bath while I go over there." I flick a finger towards the bed and release him.

"What are you going to do over there?"

I ignore his question, turning away and walking slowly towards the bed. I swing my hips, as Leliana had taught me, allowing my unbound hair to sway against my back. I know that the chemise barely covers my bottom and I can feel Alistair's intense focus on the view.

As I reach the bed, I lift one knee and push myself onto it, dropping to my hands and knees. I look back at him over my shoulder, allowing my hair to frame my face as I catch his gaze. He hasn't moved, his hands are still gripping the sides of the bath, but he is biting his lower lip and his eyes keep drifting from my face to my rear. I crawl slowly up the bed and roll over, so that I'm sitting up on the bank of pillows.

I pull the chemise off in one swift movement, leaning back against the pillows. His eyes are devouring my body, but he stays still, his knuckles white as his grip on the stone increases.

I pause, marvelling at how ludicrous I must look lying here like this, naked. But my worry melts away as I feel his desire and I relax with a smile. I look down at myself and look back up at him through lowered lashes. Biting on my finger deliberately, I curl my tongue around it, sucking on it gently for a second. His mouth drops open and I can see his breathing hitch. I slide my finger out slowly, pressing down on my lower lip.

I follow the contour of my collarbone trailing a faint wetness down the valley between my breasts. With a flourish, I press against my nipple, testing its hardness between my thumb and forefinger.

"Thess," Alistair makes a move to get out of the bath, but I shake my head.

"You stay there; your punishment isn't over yet." I stroke my hand down my side, following the soft line of my ribs stopping at my curved hips. I pull my knees up before letting them fall apart to the sides. Alistair hisses and leans forward slightly, his eyes ravishing me from his bath.

I tilt my hips upwards as I trail my finger down across my flat stomach. I lick my lips again, my fingernail tracing soft patterns on my thigh before I slide my fingers into the soft folds at my core. Alistair's body shudders in time with my own as I brush over the hyper sensitive nub. In the bath, Alistair moans and I see the water ripple as his hips buck, but I keep moving my finger, rubbing my flesh with increasing pressure.

As the sensations increase, I see Alistair's own reactions mirror my own; he draws in a sharp breath and moans. "Thessaly, my beloved."

I need no further urging and concentrate on my own pleasure, knowing that he watches and shares it. My fingers tip me over the edge where I float, overwhelmed by our sensations as his body spasms in time with mine.

"Oh, Maker..." Alistair groans as I call his name.

Sated, I rest my head back on the pillow and allow myself a grin. Leliana had recommended making sure Alistair had finished at least once before our first time, so that when we were together he wouldn't come too fast. Surely this counted?

"I will never hear you say 'Maker' in battle again without thinking of this..." I say quietly, watching the candlelight create shadows that dance on the ceiling.

The bed settles as he climbs on beside me, still dripping wet from the bath. His face is glowing and he rewards me with a satisfied smile. "Okay, that was hot. I'm going to always be naughty if that's my punishment."

"I don't know. I might have to try other things, next time," I tease. "This was your birthday treat." Trickles of water run down his chest and I try to catch one with my tongue. I burrow my face into his chest, tasting him.

"The bath was a good idea, you know. I can be... messy. The Fade is quite kind about those sorts of things." Alistair blushes.

"I guess I'll find out soon, won't I?" I shift my hips a little. "I'm a little... mmm, damp, myself."

His eyes travel down my body to the wetness between my legs and I see him bite into his lower lip again. He looks up and slides closer to me. His calloused fingers stroke my jaw, and then he pulls my face towards his and crushes his mouth against my own. His hands caress down my back, sliding over my hips, massaging and fondling. He continues along between my legs, his fingers stopping as they graze against me.

Alistair hesitates. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, "I don't want to hurt you… The boys at the Chantry said it's painful for a woman the first time."

"I'm sure. I need to feel you inside me now."

I gasp as the fingers of my lover find my most private place, teasing, circling, finally dipping into me. I feel myself involuntarily tensing around the invading finger, but Alistair pauses, waiting a moment. He kisses and licks along my neck, whispering soothingly against my jaw. I relax, allowing his finger to sink deeper. The simple motion inward makes me shiver, and when he adds another alongside the first a cry breaks from me, but his lips are there, drinking it. All that matters is the hot mouth fastening on mine, the hand stroking along my hip, the fingers that caress my flesh from within.

When his touch suddenly leaves me, I moan in protest. But Alistair's strong hands pick me up and flip me over, urging me back on to my hands and knees. I pull my hair out from where it's caught under my hand, feeling him holding onto my waist.

"Like this. I want you like this." He whispers into my ear. His hands run down my sides to grip my hips as he kneels behind me. I look over my shoulder at him, his bare torso rising above me. He blows on my sensitive flesh and grins at the gasp that he elicits, his own body trembling with my reaction.

He strokes a hand over my hipbone and down, and then slides his fingers into me again, his thumb brushing against my bud. He gently and rhythmically massages me, in and out, soon adding another finger, then another. He pulls his fingers away, looking at me with one eyebrow raised in silent query.

"Yes, I want you. I'm ready." I murmur.

I whimper as finally his hot, hard flesh nudges into me. He pushes into me almost tentatively, and though I am slick and ache for him, this is not the easy entrance I imagined. I feel only a part of him inside me but it hurts despite his careful preparation. The burning expands with every inch of ground he gains. Alistair feels my pain and stops, waiting, his Templar discipline stilling his hips.

"It's okay, it's normal. It'll pass." I hiss through clenched teeth.

I feel the pain begin to ebb as my body adjusts to the size of him. I lean onto one elbow and reach back with my other hand, pulling his hip forward gently.

He holds my waist tightly, his fingers digging into my soft flesh as he slowly pushes himself deeper. I feel his pleasure, the heat and the tightness masking my dull ache. As he slides fully into me, I feel completed in a way I have never known before. That hollow emptiness is cured.

"Ready?" He asks. I answer by rocking back against him.

Alistair sets a rhythm, slow and strong at first, then ever faster; and all further thoughts flee. I can hear his breathing rate increase with the tempo. I watch him, his eyes transfixed by the junction where our bodies join with an expression of worship on his face.

I can tell my own body is too sore to truly enjoy this, but Alistair's pleasure is enough for us both. He doesn't last long; it takes only a few more thrusts for his whole body to shudder. An overwhelming sense of warmth and sweetness courses through my entire body, a release that is profound and utterly unlike anything I have ever experienced before. When I dreamed of this moment, when I imagined sharing myself with Alistair in such a way, I never could have imagined anything like this.

My limbs collapse beneath me and Alistair slides off to lie at my side, panting. I twist around so that I can lay my head on his chest while I regain my breath.

"I'm sorry that you didn't finish as well," he sighs. "You wanted it to be perfect and I've ruined it."

I laugh softly. "Don't you see, this is perfect! I'm with the man I love who loves me back. What more could I need? And with a little time and experience we'll both get even better at it. That'll be okay too."

His amber eyes blink at me, the force of my love quelling any of his doubts.

"And remember when you were in the bath? I was already one ahead of you." I glance down and raise an eyebrow. "Though you weren't kidding about the messiness... "

He scoops me into his arms and carries me over to the bath. He drops me squealing into the warm water before dashing back to the bed, laughing. I shake the water out of my hair as I wash up quickly.

"You do like this punishment thing, don't you?" I mock growl as I march back towards the bed, dripping warm water across the room.

"What can I say? I grew up getting spanked by priestesses..." He grins, stretching out on the bed. His muscles twist and move in very distracting ways and I pause to stand and watch.

Moving almost faster than I can see, he's pulled me onto my back on the bed with my hands pinned above my head. His thigh is between my legs and I can feel his interest rising again.

"Speaking of being spanked by the priestesses, I have some... ideas... that I've always wanted to try out. Close your eyes." His voice drops to his low, seductive tone.

I do ask he asks and thank Andraste that I'd convinced Leliana to keep Zevran occupied tonight as I feel the heat, the wetness, the sensual sliding of his tongue all over my body.

* * *

Back after the weekend :)


	19. Chapter 19

Sneakily short chapter today, but since it was my birthday yesterday and I'm still recovering, I'm afraid this is all you're gonna get until tomorrow!

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Alistair has somehow managed to kick the blanket off us, but our combined body heat has kept us warm. He's lying on his side, his arm thrown onto my hip as I lie facing him. His eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as he slowly wakes up.

"Hello handsome," I murmur as his eyes focus on me.

His sleep-filled voice is husky. "Mmmm, now _this_ I could get used to." His arm tightens around me, his fingers caressing my hip. "A few months ago, I would never have believed that I would be waking up beside the most beautiful woman in Thedas."

"I don't feel beautiful. I feel sticky and a bit sore." I wrinkle my nose.

"You look perfect and smell divine." He runs his nose along my throat down to the valley between my breasts. He looks up and beams at me. "Hmmm. You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."

"It could still happen," I laugh.

"Sure, but if you get hit by the lightning after all that it hardly seems like an effective deterrent." He slides his hand down to cup my rear with a naughty grin. "You do realise the rest of our little party is going to talk, right? They do that."

I shrug. "Let them talk. I'm used to it."

"Oh sure, you say that now. By tomorrow it'll be icy glares and awkward silences right before battle, just you watch." His fingers dance along my hip and around to my stomach as I laugh at his serious expression. "Did you sleep well?"

"If by sleeping well, you mean did I enjoy the six hours with you in the Fade _after_ the four hours of _exercise_ before we fell asleep? I had an amazing, wonderful night, thank you Alistair. The Fade is... different to reality. I'm glad we had this time together here."

"I love you, you know. I meant what I said about being with you forever." He strokes his hand up to cup a breast. "After the Blight..."

"Let's worry about after once we've killed that Archdemon." I kiss his nose and change the subject.

"Okay, I get the hint Miss Practical. But I was raised to believe in no sex without marriage and I'm sure you were too. So we'll need to fix that later."

I press my hand to my heart and flutter my eyelashes."Why, ser, what a romantic proposal! You turn my head with your flattery."

The blush spreads across his cheeks but his smile is wicked and his voice husky. "I know something better than fancy words to prove to you _again_ how much I love you."

"As hard as it is to say no to you, I think I really need a bath before we meet up with Eamon. I smell terrible."

"You smell sexy." Alistair licks my throat with a purr. "But let me call for some fresh bath water. I don't want my lady to be uncomfortable."

He rolls off the bed and shrugs into his leather trousers. They sit low on his hips as he unbolts the door. Throwing at glance at me to check I'm covered by the blankets he steps out into the hall.

I hear him call a couple of times before a young girl comes scurrying to the door. Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head at the sight of his naked chest and I snicker. She nods when Alistair requests hot water for a bath and runs away, her hand over her mouth.

"I think you just did wonders for the Grey Wardens reputation." I chuckle.

"Huh?" Alistair stands in the doorway, his hands on his hips, oblivious to how delectable he looks.

"Just enjoying the view my love." I sit up, tucking the sheet under my arms. He gathers his scattered clothes and piles them up on a chair, the muscles on his arms rippling. I try to stretch but my body is really sore all over. It's a good thing we have a day here to meet with Eamon, as I wouldn't be much use for fighting.

I hear giggling and shuffling as a gaggle of girls storm into the room carrying steaming buckets. They all stare at Alistair as they fill the bath, eyes like saucers. Alistair notices this time, self consciously running his fingers through his hair. This does amazing things to his stomach and the girls squeal as they run out again.

Alistair's cheeks are flaming as I hold onto my sides, laughing fit to burst. "What just happened?" He whines pitifully. "All those girls were laughing at me..."

"Trust me, they were not laughing." I run my eyes up and down his chest, watching his flush spread. "They'll be dreaming of you for weeks. And you know the kind dreams I mean."

"Thess..." He blushes again, but I feel his pride and confidence rippling. Good.

A young Elven boy appears in the doorway, holding out a note. Alistair accepts it with thanks and closes the door, bolting it firmly. Flipping it open he reads. "Teagan invites us to join them all for lunch." He looks up, his face bright. "Three hours away."

"If we have plenty of time, do you think you could help me, my good knight? I'll need washing all over..." I drop the sheet and hold my arms out to him.

He advances towards the bed, pulling me into his arms. "Your wish is my command."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"This dress really isn't suitable for lunchtime Alistair. It's more of an evening gown." I run my hands down the skin tight silk sheath that Alistair has chosen from the neat pile of clothes in the room. I'm sure that it shrinks a little bit tighter every time I breathe out. Maybe it's really a torture device?

"But it's the prettiest one in the pile. And I like you in that red colour, it matches your necklace."

I toy with the rose encased in amber and have to agree that the colour is a perfect match. "Fine, but only if you wear the black shirt with the gold embroidery."

"Really? I thought I looked a bit too... old... in it." He's spent so long fiddling with his hair that he's still standing shirtless in front of the mirror with numerous clothes spread haphazardly all over the bed behind him.

"You look dangerous in it." I stand behind him and catch his eye in the mirror. "And a little bit... naughty," I whisper the last word close to his ear.

He tries to grab me, but I spin away, laughing. "We really need to go to lunch, so get that shirt on before..."

A polite tap at the door interrupts me, so I shoo Alistair with my hands as I pad barefooted across the stone. I glance behind me to see Alistair is now fully dressed in the black shirt. He's still standing in front of the mirror though, fussing with his hair.

I unbolt the door to see a smiling Teagan waiting patiently.

"Good morning my lady. I trust the room met your specifications?" he murmurs, his eyes flicking to Alistair then returning to me.

"Perfect, thank you ser. Very mmm... relaxing after our long journey." I blush at the lie but hold the door open to invite him in.

"You look beautiful as always, Thess." Teagan reaches out to touch my loose hair. "I like your hair like this."

"Brushed for once?" Alistair calls out.

"I meant that it's worn down," Teagan laughs. "Anyway, good morning Alistair."

Alistair moves to my side, magnificent in his noble clothing and with a satisfied smile on his face. "A good morning indeed, Teagan." He slides his arm possessively around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. I see the very male look that Teagan gives him and know that if I wasn't here, the topic of conversation might be a little more congratulatory.

"My lady? Are you ready for lunch?" Teagan raises an eyebrow at me.

"Of course." I head towards the door, but Teagan doesn't move and coughs politely.

"Your shoes?" He points at my bare toes, peeping from beneath the hem.

"Oh... well..." I stammer.

"It seems that Thess can't walk in girl shoes!" Alistair crows. "She tried on the ones you sent up and kept falling over."

"I can walk in _women's_ shoes fine thank you Alistair," I growl through gritted teeth, shrugging his arm off my shoulder. "But it seems my lady Isolde has Orlesian shoes with very high heels that I'm not used to."

I'm sure I hear a snicker from Teagan but when I glare at him, his face is the picture of neutrality.

"Come, let us be off then as we are. The Arl is waiting for us." He keeps a straight face.

"How is he?" I ask as we walk through the corridors to the dining room. Alistair twines his fingers in with my own, his thumb caressing my palm.

"Quite well, thank you. You'd never know that he'd been ill; I've never seen him happier. It's the first time in years that he's not worrying about politics."

"That's good to hear." I catch Alistair's eye and feel his happiness.

"He is also most pleased with you for saving his family. Isolde told him what happened, but she'd left out some of the hmm... darker the choices that you avoided." Teagan holds the door open for us. "When I explained it in more depth, especially your choice to go to the Circle, he was overjoyed that you took time from the Blight for us."

"Well, in truth, Ser, Alistair made it clear that he considers you his family, we could do nothing else."

Teagan pauses to clasps Alistair on the shoulder briefly, before heading onwards to the great hall. I hear a door open ahead of us and then our names are being announced. The Arl and Arlessa welcome us into the room. Eamon looks well; resplendent in red and gold. Isolde looks younger and more refreshed now that her worries have been lifted.

I try to keep behind Alistair, watching the room as Arl Eamon thanks him profusely for saving his life and the lives of his family. It's good to be able to stand back from being the leader for once and let Alistair reap some of the rewards. The Arl declares us both to be Champions of Redcliffe, something I know Alistair will take to heart.

He is positively glowing as the Arl shakes his hand, pounding his shoulder and smiling. His feelings of family, connection and pride all grow to suffocating levels as he pulls out his mother's amulet from his pocket.

Arl Eamon looks surprised, glancing across to Teagan who keeps his face neutral.

"I... I just wanted to thank you," Alistair says quietly. "I thought I'd lost this, the only keepsake of my mothers."

Eamon reaches out and touches it, before resting his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "I wanted to give it to you before, but I thought you hated me for sending you away."

"No!" Alistair shakes his head vehemently. "I never hated you. The Chantry, maybe, I hated. But you, you were my family..." His voice breaks on the last word and he stops.

"I know sometimes it might not have been apparent, but I consider you part of my family too." Eamon murmurs, his fingers tightening on Alistair's shoulder. "I'm sorry I sent you away, I know now that it was a mistake."

"Not a mistake." Alistair shakes his head stubbornly. "If I wasn't trained as a templar, we might not have been able to help with the Circle, and save Connor. I might never have become a Grey Warden or met Thess."

He turns to me then and holds out a hand. I step forward and curtsey as Alistair introduces me.

The Arl is pleased to meet me and congratulates Alistair on our match. He makes much of my Cousland name and my family's power at the Landsmeet. I look at Teagan and we both frown a little.

Isolde bids us to the tables as the food is brought out. After weeks of burnt rabbit or Alistair's lamb and pea stew, it smells divine. There is a feast of deer, rabbit and lamb chops, while close to the Arl is a cheese board filled with more variety than I knew existed. The Arl tucks into them with the same expression I've become used to on Alistair's face and it all makes sense.

Alistair keeps the table entertained with stories of our adventures so far. I don't think he's even aware of how good he is at public speaking, keeping everyone amused and interested. I even see the servants hanging around behind him, giggling at his jokes, gasping when he tells of Sten's attack on me in Haven.

At that point, Isolde catches my eye and gives me a shy smile. I smile back at this peace offering. If Alistair was serious in his proposal this morning, then I might become a member of this family and there is no need for bad blood between us.

"So, what next for you two?" Eamon asks Alistair. Alistair looks to me and I take up the mantle of leader once more.

"We need to continue to raise an army for the Blight. We've got the Circle behind us, but there are still the dwarfs and the elves to speak to."

"And my knights will stand beside you, my lady," Eamon promises.

"My thanks, Ser." I bow my head. "Then we shall proceed to the Dalish elves at once. There have been rumours of a sighting not far to the east from here."

"And Loghain?" Eamon frowns.

"I've volunteered to go to Denerim and speak with Anora," Teagan says.

Eamon raises an eyebrow at Teagan. "Teagan, is that wise? She is barely a widow."

The Bann flushes and pushes the food around on his plate. "I'm just going to talk, brother. She's disturbed by her father's actions, but remember how she follows his orders? I feel that, if I help her, support her, then she could come over to our side."

"If you think it's possible, it's worth trying, Teagan. Perhaps we could meet up once you've spoken to her and we have concluded our treaties work," I suggest.

"Yes, good idea my lady. Let's keep in touch with messengers and we can co-ordinate our efforts," Eamon suggests.

I let Alistair take his leave, excusing myself to change back into my armour. He joins me a few minutes later, talking non-stop about the Arl and Teagan. It's wonderful to see him so happy and I let him ramble as we prepare for the road.

As we walk across the cliffs towards camp I broach the subject of the Arl. "I'm surprised by how much I like Eamon. Teagan made him out to be... more forceful than that."

Alistair laughs, swinging our clasped hands. "Oh he can be, you'll find out if you disagree with him. But he's happier than ever I've seen before. Marriage and a child suit him."

"Well, let's hope we don't end up disagreeing with him then. I like how happy you are now, too." I tug on his hand, pulling him closer. "Even after last night... no, maybe especially because of it, I can't stop wanting to touch you..."

Suddenly I'm outflanked and there's an enemy on either side of me, grabbing my arms. As I look between the two faces staring intently into my own I blanch with fear. Worse than any darkspawn attack, I have Leliana on one arm and Zevran hanging on to the other.

"You don't really think you have any chance of getting past us do you?" Leliana squeezes my arm and winks.

"We want to hear about it all, in _great_ detail," Zevran grins.

#

I've been manhandled bodily back to camp while Alistair has scurried off to 'chop firewood'. I might have to kill him later for leaving me with these two.

"So... how is Alistair? His... performance?" Leliana asks, a mischievous smile on her face.

"And was it good for you, too?" Zevran interjects.

"Hmm was it good...?" I ponder just as Alistair stomps back into the clearing with an armful of branches and raise my voice slightly. "Do you mean the first time or the sixth time?"

"Thess!" Alistair splutters and drops the wood. His face flushes red and he looks like he's about to scurry back into the woods. However I can feel his curiosity and pride edging away his embarrassment, so for now he stays to listen.

"Well, I was only talking about last night my love. If you want me to include this morning as well, the count goes much higher...."

"I have heard tales of the fabled Grey Warden stamina," Morrigan chimes in from her lair at the back of the camp. Her yellow eyes stare at Alistair speculatively and I consider poking them out. With a spoon.

"I for one am glad that they chose to rut out of earshot finally," Sten grumbles.

"But did my advice help?" Leliana asks, bouncing up and down.

"I must say, I think he appreciated all of your tips," I laugh, blushing slightly at the memories.

"Ooh, the little templar is all grown up and apparently he... ahem... plays well with others." Leliana winks at me again.

This is the last straw and with a squeak, Alistair runs off back into the woods. I catch a strange expression of relief cross Zevran's face and I realise that I'm being played by the two rogues. Both Leliana and Zevran smell of fresh soap, with damp hair and even with all this teasing, they've not looked at each other once. Interesting.

"So, anyway Leli, you didn't tell me how your night of distracting Zevran went?" I ask the little Orlesian.

"Hmm, what? Oh, that... Yes." She flushes the same colour as her hair and drops my arm.

"What is this?" Zevran leans past me to stare at Leliana.

"Oh, I know how you like to always have an eye on me, let's say. So I asked Leli to keep you busy. Watch duty or cards or something, was it?" I see her wince and know that I've struck gold.

"_Or something_ might be closer." Zevran smiles, but his eyes remain fixed on the bard. "I did not realise you had been ordered to keep me company, my dear."

Leliana fidgets with her bow, not looking up. "Well, it was only supposed to be a game of cards, but then you brought out that bottle of wine... and added all those rules about removing clothing if you lost a game... And I'm pretty sure you were cheating..."

"Gosh," I put my face in my hands and flutter my eyelashes at her. "It sounds like you two have something to tell me."

Zevran snorts and disappears off to his tent while Leliana fumbles her way through a very illogical explanation of why it's not what I think it is. After a good few blushes and excuses from her, I pounce.

"So, how _is_ Zevran...?"

#

The Dalish are surprisingly easy to find. They're camped in the Brecilian forest, not far from the main 'West Road' towards Denerim. The camp looks unusually permanent and I wonder how long they have lived her.

I ask Zevran to join us when first meeting them and he bristles at the apparent slight.

"You think because I told you my mother was Dalish I will _'bond'_ with them?" He snaps, his usual smile gone.

"No, actually, it's because you're so good at reading people that you can help me to get them to trust us."

"Oh." He grins at me, his mask back in place. "Then of course I am here to serve, my dear."

And he does. His natural charisma helps get past the perceived barriers between our races. The Keeper Zathrian is wary of us, but I see that his apprentice Lanaya falls for Zevran's numerous charms. She convinces the Keeper into talking to us, despite our status as 'Shems'. However, we quickly realise that the Dalish are in no state to help with the Blight. They are currently ravaged by Werewolf attacks and their own warriors are diminished.

"Well, that's just typical isn't it?" Zevran sighs.

He's right though and my pledge to help with their problem is the only way we will get support for the Blight. I go back to our camp and ask Leliana to take Morrigan and Sten with her to help the Dalish people. It seems there are many little tasks to attend to that might increase their respect while we tackle the major problem.

Taking Alistair, Zevran and Wynne with me, we begin tracking the werewolves through the ancient forest. They attack us from all sides, but something is strange. They aren't mindless beasts, they talk and argue. And odd for such powerful creatures that have been ravaging the Dalish, they seem far more scared of us than we are of them.

But this is a weird forest. There are revenants, ancient ruins and rhyming trees that need lost acorns returning. While Alistair talks to the tree, I collar Zevran alone.

"So, you and Leliana then...?" I ask. "I didn't realise you liked her."

He doesn't turn his gaze from the tree and shrugs. "It was cold, we are both adults. It is just sex, no?"

I flinch at the hostility in his voice, even though there is his habitual smile on his face. "I... I guess you're right."

"Good, then perhaps we can concentrate on this instead of our love lives for once, hmm?"

He saunters over to Wynne and starts teasing her about her magical bosom again. She flusters and complains but I can tell that she loves the attention. But I know him well enough now to recognise that he is furious about something, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched. He studiously ignores me for the rest of the afternoon, but I catch the odd glare out of the corner of my eye.

It's late when we find the abandoned camp just past the rhyming tree. It's a beautiful spot, under the tress and next to a burbling river. There's a small tent, a firepit and after the many fights, it's peaceful.

"You know, if it's all the same to you, why don't we sit down a while? Strange as it sounds, I'd rather camp here and continue into the forest later." Zevran hides his yawn behind his hand, his eyes drooping as he sinks cross legged onto the bedroll.

Alistair nods in agreement, sinking to his knees beside the fire in silence, his head nodding to his chest.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Wynne looks at me, her face worried.

I'm too tired to reply and drop down next to Alistair. Wynne keeps speaking but I can't hear her and I'm too weary to concentrate. I lean my head against Alistair as the world goes grey.

Then my heart stops.


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for all of your reviews and questions. And much kudos to my two betas, Aaliia & Desert Willow, for fixing my many mistakes.

* * *

**Chapter 21**

Someone punches me in the heart and I open my mouth to scream when it feels like my whole body is struck by a giant fist. I sit up with a gasp as the spell Wynne has cast on me fades away.

She looks exhausted, her robes covered with a black ichor and there's a bundle of rags by her feet. I reach out to Alistair, but even though his skin looks pink and his flesh is warm, he's not moving.

"Alistair?" I pull him towards me. "My love... Alistair!" His body is lifeless, his eyes open and unmoving. His hand slides off his chest and thuds to the earth.

I glare at Wynne, but I can see her struggling to gain enough breath to cast again. I look back to Alistair and stroke his hair, trying to control the low keening sound deep in my throat.

With a groan, Wynne casts her spell again, this time I feel Alistair's body arc upwards in my arms. He coughs and splutters, his eyes moving again. I hold my hand over his heart, enjoying the feel of it beating again. He looks up at me and smiles weakly.

"How do you feel?" I kiss his nose softly.

"Tired," he blinks and yawns. "But not, well, dead anymore."

Zevran is still lifeless as I lean over and take his hand, clutching the limp fingers as Wynne regains her energy. He's as still as Alistair, but his eyes are closed. He almost looks as though he is just asleep.

"What happened?" Alistair croaks, his hand reaching up to cover mine.

"A spirit of some kind," Wynne answers. "I managed to resist its effects, but you... well, it killed you."

She waves her hands once more and I feel Zevran's fingers crush my own. He sits up quickly, one hand reaching for his dagger and the other one capturing my own in a firm grip. My knuckles grate, but I don't try to pull away. As he recognises his surroundings, he relaxes his hold and gently caresses my crushed fingers as an apology.

"Are you okay?" I ask the assassin.

"Last time I had a near death experience it involved ropes and hanging and was much sexier..." He sees my horrified expression and laughs. "I am fine. My darling Wynne has saved us all."

"Thank you Wynne. Truly." I smile at her. "Without you, we'd all be dead."

Wynne nods, but stays silent, holding herself upright on her staff. Zevran releases my fingers and walks across to her. He leads her to a log and helps her to sit, holding on to her arm as she stumbles.

"I'll be fine in a moment, don't worry," she says, but her face looks pale and her hands tremble. Zevran holds on to her shoulder and stands close by her side, his eyes dark.

"Is it safe to rest here?" Alistair asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, I think so. The spirit is gone." Wynne looks up. "But I'd rather not sleep here."

"No, let's just rest for a moment before we move on," I suggest.

Zevran leaves Wynne to poke around the edges of the camp at the debris. I notice that I'm sitting next to piles of bones, old armour and trinkets.

"This place has been here a long time. Some of these remains are ancient." I wrinkle my nose as I push aside another weather-beaten skull to revel some old gloves.

"Yes, I think our favourite mage has done a good thing today." Zevran cradles the tiny skull of an infant with a frown. "A very good thing, indeed."

The gloves are made of supple leather and lined with soft rabbit fur and they remind me of something Zevran has said, so I place them in my backpack for later.

Once Wynne feels stronger, we head south into the deep forest. A strange mad hermit sings and dances about the acorn, but I can't get any sense out of him. I see something glittering within an old tree stump and try to reach inside, but am not dextrous enough.

"Hmm. No offence, but might I try? You've complimented my quick hands before," Zevran purrs as he pushes me gently aside.

Alistair huffs at the insinuation, but he's getting better at not rising to the bait. I throw him a smile, and then watch Zevran as he examines the tree.

"Ha! Let's see... when was the last time I slipped my hand into some dark hole? Hmm, I remember. Long story, that." He winks at Alistair and reaches into the tree stump. His tongue sweeps across his lips as he concentrates, then with a grin, he straightens up. "And there we go! It was definitely trapped, but I am too awesome by far. Here's what was inside."

As he holds out a giant acorn, the mad hermit screeches and attacks. Alistair uses his templar abilities to lock down his magic and Zevran takes him down with a couple of dagger moves before he has a chance to resist.

The rhyming tree takes his time thanking us for the acorn with his sing-song voice, but he explains where the werewolf lair is and gives us an enchanted branch that will allow us to enter. It is close; we can make it with plenty of time before dark.

Alistair and Wynne stop to examine an old gravestone and I use the opportunity to pass Zevran the gloves I found earlier.

"Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?" Zevran looks down, not meeting my eyes.

"They're Dalish gloves. Like your mothers," I explain softly.

"I... Maker's breath, you're right. They are very like my mother's. The leather was less thick and perhaps they had more embroidery... but these are very close. And quite handsome." He flashes me a broad smile, pulling off his current gloves to see if these fit.

"You're welcome." I smile back, pleased to see genuine warmth in his eyes again.

"Do I seem surprised? Perhaps I am." Zevran mutters to himself under his breath. "I appreciate the fact that you even thought of me. No one has simply... given me a gift before I met you. Thank you." He takes a deep breath, clasping one of my hands in his own. I see what look to be tears glistening in his eyes so I quickly look down at the decorated Dalish gloves.

"Remind me, when we have a moment to ourselves. You have been a good friend to me. I would like to explain why I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far from home. If you have an interest," his voice is husky.

"Of course, Zev." It feels like this is the most honest I've ever known him to be and the tortured expression on his face makes my heart break with pity. How sad his life must have been as a slave to the Crows for a simple gift to affect him so.

Almost as if he hears my thoughts, Alistair pivots around from the gravestone and glowers at me. Zevran automatically drops my hand and steps back, his genuine smile replaced with his fake sardonic leer.

"I still haven't forgiven you for ordering the bard to use me though. I will think of many interesting ways to make you pay for that later," Zevran promises as he moves into the trees to scout again.

There are werewolves waiting for us again. A larger one called Swiftrunner talks to us but seems unable to believe that we are not here just to slaughter. He attacks us, trying to protect the entrance to their lair but retreats when he realises he can't stop us.

The lair itself looks like an ancient Tevinter ruin, overrun with giant spiders. The only worry is where we hear the deep breathing of a dragon, but as Zevran stealthes to disarm the many traps, we see it swoop above it. Compared to the high dragon, it's just a baby and we dispatch it easily. Finally, we see the hidden entrance to the lair of the werewolves. There are fewer cobwebs here, though we see yellow eyes glaring at us from the dank corridors.

Our way is blocked by a large silver werewolf. "Stop! Brothers and sisters, be at ease. We do not wish to see any more of our people hurt. I ask you this now, outsider: are you willing to parley?"

I express my deep sorry at injuring any of their comrades and offer to parley with their leader, Witherfang, but he refuses, saying that I would need to speak to The Lady herself.

Inside the huge hall is partially destroyed by the huge tree roots that have broken through the ancient stone. Plants and trees grow wild here and the flagstones are ripped up. On top of an ancient dais we're surrounded by at least fifteen werewolves, all glowering, their rage ready to overflow.

Then the Lady of the Forest appears. A strange creature, she looks part beautiful woman, part forest sprite. Her hands appear as roots and her only clothing the vines and leaves of the trees. She speaks softly and patiently and it's clear who has been controlling the werewolves' savage natures.

She explains the curse in much more detail than the Dalish Keeper had. When Zathrian's children were attacked by humans, his son murdered and his daughter raped, he had brought forth a terrible spirit. Zathrian himself created the curse, a disease spread the lycanthropy to the humans who had hurt his family.

The Lady begs me to bring Zathrian to talk to her. They are desperate to end the curse, to return to their human forms. She is so earnest, I agree to try and help bring a peaceful resolution to the problem.

But as we exit the ruin, Zathrian is waiting for us outside, expecting Witherfang's heart. It takes a lot of persuasion to get him to agree to meet with the Lady. But then the Lady explains how Zathrian has reached his old age, by using the curse to keep himself alive. The atmosphere changes and Zathrian tries to force me into helping him, but I refuse.

"We're standing for what's right, here. No matter what," Alistair declares.

With a snarl, Zathrian attacks us, paralysing the werewolves. But he hasn't counted on Alistair, who uses his templar skills to release them from their spell. Zathrian is quickly overpowered, but the Lady calls for the werewolves to stop attacking.

Her voice, the whisper of leaves in the breeze speaking of mercy, makes Zathrian close his eyes and shake his head. "I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children, my people."

"Then is it not time to lay your hatred to rest?" Zevran surprises me with his question. But I see Zathrian stare at the assassin, considering his question.

"Perhaps I have... lived too long. This hatred is like an ancient, gnarled root... it has consumed my soul. What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse, just as I am. Do you not fear for your end?"

"You are my maker Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things, I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you maker, put an end to me... we beg you... have mercy."

Zathrian looks up at her, wonder in his eyes. "You shame me, spirit. I am... an old man, alive long past his time." Zathrian pushes himself to his feet and chants softly.

As his body crumples lifelessly to the floor, the Lady's body blossoms flowers, her roots growing. She bursts into a bright light and dissipates.

The werewolves shudder and groan, transforming into humans with feral yellow eyes. They remind me of Morrigan and I suppress my instant dislike.

"What are you going to do now?" I ask.

"We'll leave the forest, I suppose. Find other humans, see what's out there for us. It should be quite interesting, don't you think?" The man tenses then sprints out of the hall, followed by his fellow newly reborn humans.

"Well, that went well." Zevran indicates the exit. "Shall we allow our mage to rest?"

I nod and follow him as he checks for traps. I take Wynne's arm and walk with her, asking how she feels. She reminds me of when she collapsed recently after a battle. The truth is that she was killed during the initial battle for the Circle. While in the Fade, she was saved by a benevolent being.

"So, you're possessed?" I query as she nods. "But it's fine, surely. You're still you, so that's what counts."

"You believe that? I... I guess you're right. Thank you, I never thought of it that way."

"But, you seem to get tired, if you died before, do you know how long...?" I try to think how to phrase it delicately, but Wynne understands.

"Don't worry. I'm not the sort of person that leaves things unfinished. I'll see this through, I promise." She casts a glance over her shoulder then drops her voice conspiratorially. "That grimore you asked me to look at. It is a bitter thing, full of malevolence. It seems Flemeth uses her daughters to keep herself alive eternally. Once she reaches a certain age she takes over their bodies. It's apparently easier if they're already adept with magic."

"That's.... pretty awful. Should we tell Morrigan?" I rub my head in my hands.

"I'm not sure, let me finish it. Ask me tomorrow." She smiles at me. "It will mean you have to actually talk to her."

I grimace and nod. "I suppose. Definitely tomorrow then."

#

The Dalish already know about Zathrian's death as they all felt a change, but they're overjoyed to hear that the curse has been lifted and that the attacks will stop. Leliana has won over the hearts of the elves by helping care for their children, while Morrigan has depleted her herb supply in healing their many sick and injured. I ask them to follow us as soon as they're able and escort Wynne back to our own camp.

It's a good feeling, resting against Alistair legs with the fire warming me as I eat the stew Morrigan has made. He's on his third bowl, slurping and chomping behind me as Leliana stands in front of the fire. She takes a deep breath and being to sing in a soft voice that carries across the camp of the sorrow of the Elves.

_Hahren na melana sahlin  
emma ir abelas  
souver'inan isala hamin  
vhenan him dor'felas  
in uthenera na revas  
_

_Vir sulahn'nehn  
vir dirthera  
vir samahl la numin  
vir lath sa'vunin_

She has a haunting voice, and even though I don't understand the language, tears prick my eyes. Even Alistair slows down his eating to listen.

Zevran is sitting in front of his tent, but instead of watching Leliana sing, his eyes are on me. I think about what Leliana told me they did and wonder what is going on in the assassins mind.

As the song dies away, Alistair scoops me up and carries me inside our tent. His expression is serious as he places me gently on the bedroll, so I keep my hands to myself.

"What's this about Zevran and Leliana?" he questions me as he removes his armour.

"Oh, how did you know?" I'm surprised, I got the impression Leliana was embarrassed to admit what she'd done, drunk or not.

"Hmm I don't know. It's like... you knew, so I knew? You were thinking about it a moment ago?" He pauses and looks at me.

"Oh." I look at my hands. Even clasped together, they still shake.

"And, when you were talking to Zevran earlier, I felt your... I don't know. Pity? And then it's like I heard you say really clearly 'Poor Zev' even though your mouth didn't move."

"So, I guess it's true. Shared Fade leads to shared thoughts." I don't look up, even when I feel him slide close to me. He can sense the fear coursing through me.

"We've done so much already. We've only got to see the dwarves and then talk to Eamon about Loghain. We can get through this." Alistair takes my hands to steady them and I lean forward, my ear against his pounding heart.

"I know, it doesn't necessarily mean anything bad, I guess." I kiss his throat, enjoying the familiar scratching of his stubble on my cheek. "Actually, there might be some advantages."

"Oh, such as?" He pulls me onto his lap and kisses my forehead.

"Well, I always thought of you as an innocent Chantry boy, but those things you wanted to try at Redcliffe. Wow. I'm sure half of them would be illegal in Antiva!" I smile up at him, concentrating on holding my hands steady and letting the fear drain out of me. "I'd love to see how dirty it really is, in there."

"What can I say? I've had plenty of time to think." He grins at me then lowers his voice to a husky purr. "Don't worry, I've still got plenty more ideas I want to try with you."

"Oh really?" I catch his lips and kiss him quickly. "I'm still a little... hmmm tender, from Redcliffe, so perhaps we should meet in the Fade? Also, less chance of being overheard." I indicate the noisy chatter outside the tent and Alistair nods.

I curl up beside him, letting him spoon around me, his strong arms holding me steady. But I can't seem to fall asleep even with Alistair's soft, rhythmic breathing in my ear.

I finally enter the Fade, but it's not what I was expecting. I'm alone underground, surrounded by darkspawn who are all jostling and pushing each other to get closer to me. They howl and wail, waving swords and spears.

The Archdemon swoops down, landing on top of them with a crash. It lowers its head and opens its mouth, letting a limp body fall out, rolling to a stop by my feet. It's Alistair, his body broken and bruised, his armour shredded by the dragons sharp teeth. I don't need to look closely to know he's gone.

With one giant flap, the dragon launches itself into the air again with a shriek. I can't understand the language, but I understand the meaning.

_'Soon.'_

I jerk awake, sweating and shivering. Alistair is still asleep, his face relaxed and I can sense his contentment. I wrap myself in a blanket and crawl out of the tent before I wake him with my negative emotions.

It's late, only Sten prowls the perimeter, but once he sees me by the fire, he walks further away. I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them, hugging them to my chest as I watch the orange flames dance.

"Is everything alright? You're trembling." Zevran appears at my side, almost, but not quite touching me. "I did not expect to see you away from your fellow Grey Warden. I thought you were still at the rainbows and kittens stage, no?"

I snort at his suggestion but shake my head, not looking away from the flames.

"Please, did we not agree that we are friends? Can I not be a friend to you now?"

I laugh and say, "Okay, friend. Tell me what went on with Leli and you. She was very evasive. None of the details she was expecting from me, let's say."

Zevran chuckles then glances at the bards tent. He raises and eyebrow at me and grins. "I will tell you, but this stays between us. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

I pretend to seal my mouth and lean closer to him.

"Well, let's just say our dear Leliana cannot hold her alcohol any more. A few years in the Chantry and it seems a mere two bottles of wine are her undoing. Perhaps she fell asleep a little earlier than she remembers." He shakes his head. "But I had to have a little fun, no? So when she awoke in the morning, I thanked her for a glorious night and said she was welcome in my tent any time."

I burst out laughing. "And she believed you? Oh, you wicked man." I try to stifle the laughter bubbling up from me, so that I don't wake up the camp, but it's hard when I see the unrepentant grin on his face.

"You see? Imagine what it does to a man's reputation to have a beautiful woman fall asleep instead of falling into his arms," he sighs dramatically.

"So I'm forgiven for sending her to you?"

"Was there ever any doubt, my dear? But, to tell you the truth, I do not regret that nothing happened. She is not the woman I want to hold."

I gaze into the fire, which seems less perilous than the expression on his face. Is there a more potent mixture than that of vunerability and sexuality?

"So, I have told you my secret. Now I believe it is your turn to share with me," he nudges me.

I look into his eyes and he appears to genuinely care, so I take a deep breath and explain everything. About the shared dreams, how we will have more shared thoughts and how it's possible this will lead to madness for us both.

"But," he shrugs with a frown, "the Antivan Wardens, they lived long lives. Could you not use their example?"

"Don't you see? He'd rather we had a short, brief shining moment together than years of being together, but not. And I agree with him."

"I thought you loved him?"

"Of course I do." I nod.

"I think then that if you loved him, you would do anything to save him? I mean, would it really be that bad?" He slides closer, his leg pressing against mine. "What if it was someone you liked? Or trusted?"

"Well, _maybe_ that would be a little better than your stories of brothels, but I'm still not sure..." I try to push him away, but he captures my hands and holds them, his frown deepening as he sees them tremble.

"Do you like me?" He holds my gaze.

"You know I do," I admit.

"And do you trust me?"

"Against my better judgement, Andraste help me, yes." I laugh softly.

"So why don't you let me help?" He leans closer still, his hazel eyes freezing me in place as his lips descend towards me.


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks for all of your thoughtful reviews and kind comments :)

* * *

**Chapter 22**

Just as I feel Zevran's his breath on my lips, I murmur. "He's awake, you know. I felt him wake up a minute ago."

Zevran freezes and a grin spreads across my face. "I think he's trying to decide on the best way to kill you."

"I heard it all, including you trying to seduce _my_ woman." Alistair snarls from behind me, the tent fabric rustling as he emerges.

Zevran leans back, his expression flickering as his mask settles back into place.

Our tent opens and Alistair crawls out. He's clutching his sword with just a shirt hastily pulled on over his small clothes. Zevran doesn't stand, but out of the corner of my eye I see his body tense.

"Alistair, come sit with me," I hold a hand out towards him.

"After I've killed the assassin." He swishes his sword once or twice, testing the blade with his thumb.

"Just sit, please," I wiggle my fingers. "I'm cold."

"But I heard everything he said!" He sword hand droops and he looks crestfallen.

"Good, then I won't need to explain my plan twice." Zevran's daggers have appeared in his hands as he polishes them by the firelight.

I frown and grab hold of Alistair's free hand, pulling him towards me. He sits behind me, his long legs scissoring around me. I imagine he would have been angrier, if not for the intense cloud of my fear for our future that I'm sitting stewing in. He drops his sword and wraps himself around me protectively.

"Since your idea of a _plan_ is to seduce Thess, then I'd say it hardly needed explaining once," Alistair growls.

And then I hear his thoughts for the first time. It's strange, like one of my own, but in his voice, echoing inside my head.

**[Never going to happen]**

And it's as if now that I've heard it, it becomes my thought. Whatever tiny flicker of a temptation there might have been to stave off our impending insanity, it's gone. His vehement disagreement becomes my own belief.

Everything goes fuzzy as I zone out, just watching the flicking light as the two men argue. I half listen to them, concentrating on the gentle movement of Alistair's hands on my arms, the feeling of his cheek resting on my head as his voice echoes inside my mind. His scent of wood smoke and leather is reassuring.

"It doesn't even have to be _me_," I hear Zevran argue. "But you can't just give up without trying. She deserves more than that."

"It's only a possibility, it might not even happen." I murmur. Behind me, I feel Alistair tense and his hands tighten their grip on my arms. "And as long as we end the Blight, that's all that counts, right?"

"Indeed, why should I care about the fate of my friend? Tsk, silly assassin." Zevran rolls his eyes, his foot tapping out his annoyance.

"Yes and you're suggesting this out of the kindness of your heart," Alistair continues, stubbornly. "I might be old-fashioned, but if she's with me, she's with me."

"Yes, yes, I think all of Ferelden understands that your love is so pure, you'd rather she died than experienced pleasure with someone other than you."

"That's... that's not what you're suggesting..." Alistair splutters. "Its... you're making it sound like _I'm_ the one being unreasonable."

"Aren't you?" Zevran stands up and brushes the dust off his leathers. "My offer stands, however I think it is time for me to sleep. Excuse me," Zevran half bows to me and disappears into his tent.

I enjoy the silence, leaning back against Alistair, feeling his body heat seeping into mine. His hands continue caressing me, rubbing at my tense shoulders.

"I didn't see you in the Fade. That bed is not the same when you're alone, you know."

I shrug, the image of his lifeless corpse flashing in front of my eyes again, as the Archdemon mocks me.

"Oh, I see. Nightmares."

"You saw that?" I shake my head, surprised at how quickly our connection is increasing. "It didn't feel like just a nightmare. It felt like you'd been killed. I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"That will never happen. I promise I will never leave you." Alistair stands and pulls me up into his arms. "Let me see if I can do something to relieve this tension and help you sleep."

"Oh Gods. I'm going to throw up. Don't they ever _stop_?" Morrigan complains from her lair.

"Doesn't anyone ever sleep around here?" I moan as I'm pulled into our tent.

#

He's awake before me for once, leaning on an elbow looking down at me with a lazy smile. "Good morning, beautiful."

I know that my hair is tangled in knots, with plenty of dirt and possibly some drool on my chin, but the way his eyes caress my face makes me feel beautiful.

"Thank you." I stretch under the blanket, feeling his legs wrapped around mine. "That massage definitely helped me to sleep."

"And once you were asleep?" He purrs, a hand sliding up my hip slowly.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you know how much I enjoyed that part of the night." I wriggle closer to him. "I could do this forever, just me and you."

"Just us?" He looks thoughtful. "You know, I was talking to Wynne yesterday. And once she's stopped teasing me about you, which admittedly took some time..."

I laugh at the mental image. Wynne takes great pleasure in tormenting Alistair, she's far worse than Zevran.

"Well, anyway, did you know she had a son? No, me either. But because she's a mage, he was taken away from her."

I see the frown on his face and think of his own upbringing. "How awful! Poor Wynne. Does she know what happened to him?"

He shakes his head, his eyes thoughtful. "No, but it got me thinking. About us. About children."

"Oh," I flush. "I've been careful; Wynne's given me some potions to prevent anything..."

"No, it's kind of the opposite problem really," his smile is strained. "All the Grey Wardens I knew had children before they joined. I don't even know if two of them can have children."

The hand resting on my hip strokes gently, but I can see he's still miles away. "I just realised, we've never spoken about what you wanted, if all of this hadn't happened. You'd be married off to some rich noble, Teagan probably..."

I poke him in the ribs and he laughs. "I jest, I jest! But, I could see you, lady of the manor, hordes of children running around your feet. And you've had all of that taken away from you. And for what? Bloodshed, fighting, horrible food..."

I put my hand over his heart and shake my head. "I've gained everything. I had no plans for the future, I didn't even think there was a man out there I could respect, never mind love. Yes, maybe I'd always assumed I'd eventually marry and have children, but that's because there were no other options available to me. I mean, I loved my nephew, with all of my heart, but I've never planned ahead for my own family."

He looks unsure, biting his lip and staring off into space. "Alistair, I wouldn't swap what we have for the world. I'd be happy if it was just the two of us in some little cottage somewhere, for the rest of our lives."

"Don't forget your need for a bard for entertainment." A voice chirrups from near the fire outside.

"And your handsome male servant to bathe you." A lilting voice joins in.

I hide my head in Alistair's chest, feeling a rumble against my cheek as he calls out. "Are you really offering to be my servant, Zevran?"

"I would readily give you whatever service you wanted, whenever you wanted, my friend." The elf manages to make even this sound filthy.

"I guess it's time we got up then?" I sigh into his chest and I hear him rumble his assent.

#

We come across a merchant named Felix as we travel through Sulcher's Pass into the Frostbacks. He claims to own a control rod that will activate a golem in a little town to the southwest. After a minor internal debate, I take the control rod off his hands. We're passing close by there anyway, so we might as well investigate.

I'm glad that we do. The village of Honnleath is overrun with darkspawn. As we fight through the village, we look for any survivors, but there are no corpses or no living people.

Finally, at the centre of the village we see a frozen golem, its arms reaching up to the sky in appeal. I recite the password given to us by Felix only to discover it doesn't work.

Zevran calls us over; he's found a door with a strange marking on it, leading down to a dank cellar where we can hear noises. More darkspawn lurk here, staring at some villagers hidden behind a magical shield. Once the monsters are slain, the shield is dropped and all of the people run, save one.

The man named Matthias tells us that they hid from the invading darkspawn, but his daughter ran away into the depths of this old laboratory. He offers to trade the golem's activation phrase if we help him.

"We would help your daughter anyway," Alistair says stiffly, before descending into the cellar depths.

Once more, a demon has attached itself to a child. This one pretends to be a cat, luring the child with offers of friendship. I feel no shame in lying to it, pretending to help it escape, while in actuality Alistair moves closer to the girl. Zevran and I distract the demon long enough for Alistair to move her to safety, secure in his templar grip from the spells the demon flings at us. It quickly succumbs to our assault and we gladly reunite the girl with her father.

The golem itself is a weird, cranky thing, unhappy at having spent thirty years frozen watching the villagers go by. Shale, as it's called, ponders coming with us and despite Alistair's objections, I can think of many uses for a friendly golem.

Although as we make our way back to the camp, and Shale stomps on every bird within sight, I'm not sure just how friendly it is.

#

"You look better today," I smile at Wynne as she wades through the ankle deep snow.

"Thank you, dear." She glances over to me, then ahead at Alistair's back as he forges a path. "And how are things between you two?"

"Oh, fine, thanks," I smile brightly, but she's sharper than that and I see her staring. "Well, you know," I sigh. "All the fighting and the camping, not the best way for a romance to flourish."

"Do you worry that you've made a mistake? That this... what you have now, isn't appropriate?" She frowns.

"No, no that's really not the problem. It's not like we had a choice..." I roll my eyes at her. "Remember Genetivi? He mentioned Fade Sharing?"

"I do, yes. I remember thinking... Oh. No choice? Oh, I see." She looks at Alistair's back and her brow wrinkles. "Are you sure?"

**[Quite sure]**

"Oi, no listening in when we're talking about you," I call to Alistair, before replying to Wynne. "Yes, believe me."

"And, do you know what it means? What the outcome is? I remember reading Genetivi's many books in the Circle's library and none of them had a good ending."

"We've heard, well, different things. I think the truth of the matter is, no-one really knows what will happen to us." I smile at her, knowing she can see through it.

"I'm sorry, I honestly don't know what to say, Thessaly." She reaches out a hand and pats my arm. "Did he tell you about my son?"

I nod and her eyes fill with unshed tears. "I look at Alistair and hope that my son has grown up to be like him. I would be so very proud."

"I'm sure where ever he is; he's a reflection of you. He'll be a great man." It's my turn to pat her shoulder. I see that Alistair has stopped, and is waiting for us.

"I hope so. Who knows how he was raised though?" She worries.

"But look at Alistair, after all he's been through in his life, he is still this loving and kind," I stare at him and sigh. "I think your son has that chance, too."

"Thank you. I'd like to hope so." She looks down at the snow and pauses. "There seems to be something special between the two of you. I know you're worried about the Fade Sharing and that it might part you. But your love isn't diminished because of that. Cherish him, cherish every precious moment that you have together."

"Thank you. We're trying," I laugh. "Not that any of our companions make it easy for us."

"It brings warmth to these old bones to know that something so beautiful can be found in the midst of chaos and strife. I... I look at you two and pray to Andraste that my own son has a portion of your happiness."

Alistair reaches her in two strides and gives her a big bear hug. His plate armour must be freezing as he picks her up, but she doesn't complain and her tears run down his metal chest to drip slowly onto the slow. He whispers something into her ear, but I can hear it clearly.

**[I'd be lucky to have you as my mother]**

#

As we finally arrive in Orzammar, we're cold and tired. One of Loghain's men tries to bar us from entering the town as traitors, but I use the ancient Grey Warden treaties to gain entrance.

The city itself is like nothing I have ever seen, carved out of solid rock around a river of molten lava. The heat pouring off it warms the caverns, lighting the area with a flickering red glow.

Once again, the simple task of requesting support is thwarted. The King has died leaving no heir. I'm asked to help both candidates who are vying for regency but quickly get lost in the mire that is dwarven politics. Both Shale and Zevran have strong and interesting arguments about Lord Harrowmont.

"He's weak and the kingdom will turn on him, and then there will be another civil war in no time." Zevran snaps, as he scares away Harrowmont's lackeys.

I'd never had reason to consider this level of politics before, how kindness could be considered weak or how ruthless power plays might actually be useful for a Kingdom. I think about Alistair and the future and realise how inexperienced I am at this and pray to Andraste that I never have to learn it.

After clearing out the thugs threatening the town, I'm told this still isn't enough. We need a paragon to help choose. And the only one available to us is named Branka, who is missing in the Deep Roads.

As we approach the black cavern where so many Grey Wardens have gone to die, a stocky, red headed man grabs for my breasts and belches into my face.


	23. Chapter 23

Sorry for the delay, I've been stuck in a meeting - here's todays post:

* * *

**Chapter 23**

I manage to dodge out of the way of the dwarfs grabby hands, fending him off with my sword. I recognise him as the drunken husband of Branka, whom we saw earlier, Oghren.

He tells me that he's spent the last two years trying to convince the Assembly, or anyone else who will listen to him, to go into the Deep Roads in search of Branka and her House.

I ask Zevran to take a message back to camp to send to Eamon and I take Oghren along with Alistair and Shale into the Deep Roads. I can tell Alistair is confused by my trust in these new members so soon, but in truth, it is because I fear taking untainted companions that I care about into the depths of the earth.

The Deep Roads are a dreary place, dank and dripping with the taint. As we battle through the spiders, more and more darkspawn appear. It's strange, topside I could always feel them if they were nearby, but down here, it's like I know where they all are at all times. My skin vibrates in tune with them.

"It's stronger," Alistair moves closer to me, his shield held partially in front of me. "They're everywhere. And they can feel us. It's like the buzzing of a swarm insects."

I point to the walls, where vile black fungus is spreading over the dwarven ruins. "I've never seen anything like this above ground."

Oghren is stumbling drunk, but he manages his weapon well, hacking through darkspawn like a pro. Alistair takes out some of our rising tension by teasing the dwarf about his drinking. Unfortunately for me, the dwarf might be drunk but he isn't blind and he soon starts making a few choice comments about Alistair 'putting his sword in my scabbard'. I try to tune him out and concentrate on Shale's monologue about pigeons.

The stench filling my nostrils gets stronger, the deeper we go. Veins of black rot run across the stone walls like spider webs, corrupting everything. Our senses are thrumming as we come across an epic battle. A small number of dwarves hold back a legion of darkspawn using a narrow bridge to control them. We charge into the fray, helping to drive back the beasts behind the giant black gate.

"Legion Of The Dead. Thought about joining 'em to find Branka, but the bastards didn't have enough ale for me."

"They do this? Stay in the Deep Roads and fight darkspawn?" Alistair asks as we explore the area.

"What are you, sodding stupid?" Oghren snots. "They're all disgraced. They're dead anyway. At least here they go back to the stone." He belches over his shoulder at the dwarves guarding the bridge.

I try to focus, but there's a scratching in my head and I know the darkspawn are listening to us. I can't understand their language, but I can hear their howling in the depths below us.

"They're hunting us now. They want us," I murmur, pressing my shoulder closer to Alistair's as we walk through the narrow tunnels.

"No, that's not it," he frowns. "I don't understand why, but it's you. They're hunting you."

For a moment I almost argue, then the feelings make more sense. He's right, they're watching me, plotting my capture. "Why? Because I'm leading this party?"

"I don't know, but they're not getting near you," is Alistair's only response.

The answer comes to us when we meet a former commander of Branka's troops, Hespith. She's obviously sick with darkspawn corruption, but there's something else. I sense a change inside her, as if she's not even dwarven any more.

And that's when she tells me why the darkspawn are watching me. Men are just food, women, women become their mothers. I can barely look at her, my skin rippling with gooseflesh as the stink increases.

"Branka always was obsessed with that damned Anvil, but to kill her own?" For once Oghren looks shocked out of his alcoholic stupor.

You would never know that the monstrous thing in the next cave was once a woman. An undulating blob of quivering flesh, the broodmother rises above us, her towering bulk ripping with five tiers of sagging breasts. She is protected by numerous tentacles, that whip and slap viciously at us as we fight our way to her. The ground is hard to walk on, slick with a vile red birthing fluid that oozes out of her.

She squeals and wriggles, unable to move. Instead she spits a vile toxin at us, while her four tentacles try to smash into us. I watch in horror as she captures Alistair, lifting him into the air and crushing him. I feel his pain clearly, and it feels as if my own bones grate alongside his.

"Shale, get him down!" I shriek as I hack at the base of a tentacle, my sword barely damaging it. I feel cold stone hands push me aside and watch as Shale hugs the tentacle, squeezing it until it bursts open, spewing vile blackness all over the golem. The broodmother drops Alistair as the tentacle falls lifeless to the ground.

Oghren has outflanked the beast and has managed to clamber up the rocks behind it. With a berserker roar, he throws himself at the monstrous bald head, ripping its throat open with one slash.

_"That's where they come from. That's why they hate us... that's why they need us. That's why they take us.... that's why they feed us." _Hespith whispers.

I rush to Alistair's side, but he's already standing, although his face is pale. "Are you injured? I have some potions Wynne gave me."

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "No, it dropped me quickly enough." He glances across at the corpse. "Do you think that was Laryn, the woman Hespith said they'd changed?"

I look at the mound of flesh and shiver. "I don't know. In some ways, I hope so, otherwise, how many more of these are down here?" I take a few steps closer, looking at the transformed face, the huge jowls and sunken eyes. "Do you think the other Grey Wardens know about this? About how darkspawn are made?"

"I... I honestly don't know Thess," Alistair slides his hands up my arms as he stands close behind me. "I'd never heard of it, but there is a lot I hadn't been taught yet."

"How many women were at Ostagar do you think?" I try and remember the camp and the soldiers, but there were so many people. "A hundred? Less?"

"Hespith said most of 'em died, only Laryn changed." Oghren takes a swig of a foul smelling brew, his eyes watering. "Maybe your friends were just taken fer food."

"That really doesn't make it any better, thanks," Alistair rests his head against mine and I hear his thoughts turn to Duncan and Cailan.

"I don't think that happened to them," I try to reassure him. "But I do think it's important that at the very least, no female Grey Wardens come to the Deep Roads alone ever again. Both for their own sake," my face twists into a grimace. "And to stop the birth of thousands more monsters."

"I promise. Whatever else comes of this, we'll make sure no females Wardens are taken here." Alistair kisses the top of my head, his mind still thinking of Duncan.

"Is it still looking for the Anvil, or is it being tired and squishy again?" For a golem, Shale is pretty good at sarcasm.

"We're moving on," I pull away from Alistair's arms. "Let's find the Paragon and get out of this stinking hole."

As we head further into the dark, Alistair keeps close to my side, his shield constantly raised, waiting for darkspawn attack. "I'm glad you didn't bring Wynne. All this taint, it's everywhere. How can someone not get infected?"

I nod, "I know, it's why I sent Zevran back too. Don't make that face; you wouldn't want _anyone_ to get sick."

He sighs **[I suppose not].**

His voice is clearer now, as if the deeper we are in their rot, the stronger our bond grows. I can hear his every thought, feel every emotion and it's hard to even breathe. Whose hand is gripping the shield, which one of us stepped over that rock? Our bodies are smarter than our brains, and keep us moving. But I'm not sure how long I can keep thinking like this.

The buzzing of the darkspawn voices is louder, an alien language of fear and hate. Then we hear It. The Archdemon is thinking about us, its thoughts moving like the hot lava around us. Slow moving, burning through our minds, the beast's gaze is sweeping through the caverns, looking for us.

**[We need to hurry]** Alistair warns.

I nod, pushing ahead through the gloom. The caverns seem never ending, before we eventually we meet her. The Paragon.

She s unsurprised to see us; she tells me that she was expecting someone to appear. She knows where the Anvil is, but she needs help getting it.

**[She's absolutely insane, Thess. She's sacrificed her own people for this thing! We shouldn't help her.]** Alistair thinks to me.

And I agree with him up to a point, but the Blight weighs heavily on my conscience. I think of the dead at Ostagar and shake my head at him. ** [But she's also right that golems could help us to win this war. Let's try it.]**

As always, Alistair trusts me and accepts my decision.

Oghren is uncharacteristically silent, taking long pulls from his bottle of ale. The path onwards isn't easy, but eventually we enter a large airy chamber. Six golems line the path up to the Anvil, suspended above the lava on a giant plinth. In front of the Anvil stands a huge golem, ancient and fearsome. His face is topped with a crown, his massive chest carved with runes. Caridin.

He explains how the Anvil was used to make golems, using living beings. Soon the greedy King forced casteless dwarfs into becoming golems and too late, Caridin realised his mistake.

I consider our choices. A mighty army of golem's to fight the darkspawn, fed by unwilling victims or to destroy a miracle of engineering? I don't need to feel Alistair's disapproval to know that it would be wrong to keep it. When I agree to help destroy the Anvil, Branka flies into a rage, forcing us to fight her.

The battle is short, but brutal. Here in the depths of corruption, Alistair and I stop thinking, allowing our bodies to move as one, a synchronised lethal dance. I feel our Grey Warden power as we lay waste to our enemies and a flicker of hope rises in my chest. My dream of the Archdemon killing Alistair now seems less certain, for could even an old God stand against us? This unstoppable power, this immense strength, this is why some Grey Wardens are given this bond during a Blight.

**[Yes, my love, it was just a dream. There's no need to doubt us. We will win this. I'll be okay.]**

And I believe him.

#

"Shayle?" Caridin asks. "Why do you return?"

"Are you referring to me?" Shale looks surprised.

"Do you not remember me? Shayle of the House of Cadash. You were one of the first volunteers to become a golem. You stayed with me for many years."

"I... I do not remember. I was squishy? A female dwarf?" Shale wanders away into the gloom by herself to think.

"Now what do we do?" Alistair asks. "We needed Branka's support as Paragon to help choose the King."

"I too am a paragon, I could forge a crown for you to give to your candidate as payment for helping destroy the Anvil." Caridin offers. He is as good as his word, handing the ornate crown to Alistair.

As soon the Anvil is destroyed, Caridin commits suicide, much to Shale's dismay.

"Can we get out of here now?" I ask Alistair. "It feels like the walls are closing in."

He leads the way out. "We must be quick; the Archdemon knows where we are. Move fast, and we should be able to avoid the darkspawn patrols."

He's wrong, we do run into a few more darkspawn, but nothing like the army I can feel crawling through the tunnels towards us. Most of the tunnels remain clear and the Legion of the Dead stand ready to hold the gate as we pass back to Orzammar.

Predictably, the political side of the regency is long and convoluted, but once I announce Bhelen as the Paragon's choice, the infighting is over and we have our troops for the Blight. It's time to go back to Redcliffe. It's almost over.

#

Shale has taken Oghren back to the camp, but I just can't face everyone yet. I drag Alistair with me into Tapster's Tavern. I need a break from being a Grey Warden and a leader. And while my experience in the Gnawed Noble didn't end in the best way, I remember how welcome it is to forget your worries in the bottom of a glass.

The hostess Corra shows us to a quiet little nook in the back. I order a couple of pints of ale and lean back with a sigh.

"Can you feel it? It's... lifted. The bond has weakened a little. I can think again." Alistair sips his drink slowly.

"Mmmm," I grin, rolling my shoulders as the tension slides away. "Much as I love having you _inside_ me, this is better."

I feel his embarrassment as he takes a bigger swig of his ale and laugh. "Sorry my love," I kiss his cheek quickly. "It's just... there's been so much worrying and fighting, then our bond growing stronger like that. I need some time to relax."

He takes another swig, his eyes watering at the foul brew. "I am so with you there."

I sip my ale, watching the rowdy dwarves drinking and fighting around us. Not quite the perfect atmosphere, but still, better than the camp.

"I was thinking, perhaps it might be a nice change for us to have some time together. You know, just sit and chat?" I slide my stool closer to his and lean my head against him. His arm snakes around my shoulders and squeezes me tight.

"I like the sound of that." His lips touch my cheek. The familiar stubble brushes against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"Just the two of us, maybe we could have a romantic evening," I wonder if he'll laugh at the word, then remember the rose necklace I wear. Romance is fine. "It feels like we rarely have any time for ourselves."

"Maybe we could get a room later?" He arches an eyebrow and I feel his fingers skim down the side of my breast. "Perhaps with a bath."

I nod. "Not a bad suggestion, we do stink like two Mabari." I feel effervescent bubbles sparkling in my head and wonder how strong the ale is. I've only sipped it and Alistair's got almost a half pint left. I lean closer and whisper in his ear. "Actually, I was thinking about that thing we tried in Redcliffe? You know, in the morning? I thought if we..."

I feel his body tense, and then he lets out a tiny belch, dissolving into giggles at the sound. "Oops, sorry, sorry. Seems like this ale is stronger than the one I used to steal at the Chantry."

The weightless feeling expands around me and I realise what it is. "Are you drunk?" I stare at his face, all pink and glowing and handsome.

**[You just thought I was pretty. I heard you.]** He laughs again. ** [Guess what I'm thinking of...]**

I see an image of my rear, swaying as I walk, materialise in front of my eyes and half-laugh, half-choke. "Alistair!"

"Nice, isn't it? It's why I let you lead in the first place, y'know." He hiccups again, then giggles some more. The image changes to me sitting naked in bed and his face turns a pinker shade and his chuckling increases.

I sigh and rub between my eyes. I wonder how much Corra charges for a room for the night.

* * *

* Writer Sheryl Chee has said that when going out for a drink Alistair would "have half a pint and giggle uncontrollably for the rest of the night.

Back on Monday - have a good weekend all :)


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks for your reviews and comments. Things are starting to draw to a close now, so I hope you're still enjoying it! :) As always, much thanks to Aaliia for her wonderful beta-ing day after day.

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Corra doesn't bat an eyelid as I struggle to carry a snoring Alistair upstairs to our room. He's completely relaxed, his fingers almost trailing on the ground as I stagger up the narrow staircase. He looks utterly delectable with his faint tan and pink cheeks, his mouth half open and huffing in his sleep. I'm getting the odd flash of his dream; he's lying on the bed with his hands behind his head and thinking of us. The sky is tinged a rose red and his love is pouring off him in waves.

I manage to drop Alistair onto the bed fully clothed and bolt the door, forcing a chair under the handle to keep it closed. A few of the less drunk dwarves have eyed our magical weapons and I'd hate to have to kill them tonight.

He doesn't even wake as I unbuckle his plate, his only response a few cute snores and a smacking of his lips. I strip him down to just his leather trousers before removing my own armour. I'm just about to remove my leathers when my body shivers with arousal and I get a flash of what he's doing to himself in the Fade.

"Alistair, I can't leave you alone for a minute," I murmur, my breath tickling across his bare chest. I curl up beside him and pull the blankets over us, letting myself drop backwards into the Fade.

As soon as I appear in front of him, he lets go of himself, holding both arms out to me in welcome. I can still feel the pop and fizzle of alcohol, which is matched by his rosy cheeks and wide grin.

"I knew if I did that, you'd come to tell me off," he laughs. "I'm being naughty without you."

I roll my eyes and snort, but it's hard to be serious when I can feel how happy and relaxed he is. He keeps wiggling his fingers as he does the most pathetic puppy eyes I've ever seen.

"Okay, okay!" I laugh, crawling up the bed to lie against him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against his chest. He smells wonderful, as if freshly bathed, and his skin feels soft against my cheek.

"I've been thinking about you, you know," he whispers in my ear.

I skim my fingers down his stomach and reply. "Yes, I can see what you've been thinking about."

"Andraste's knickers!" He giggles. "I'm trying to be romantic and you make it all... dirty. Although, I _do_ like dirty..."

I roll over slightly so I can see his eyes. "I like the sound of romantic, too."

"Well, I was thinking about you, really. Down in the Deep Roads, I could hear everything you thought and… well, I never thought of myself the way you do. I could tell how you feel about me, how special you think I am."

"You _are_ special. You're the most wonderful man I've ever met and I want you to believe that." I stroke his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin underneath my fingertips.

"I did. I do. Now I've seen that you believe it." He kisses my forehead. "I just wanted to be sure that you know how I feel about you."

"I could hear everything you thought of too, which, admittedly, seemed to be either darkspawn or cheese..." He laughs as I continue. "But I know, don't worry. I've never felt safer or more loved than when I could hear your thoughts."

"It's not just about wanting to be with you, as wonderful as this is," he strokes my arm. "It's about how you've made me feel. You think that I can do this, that I'm worth something. No-ones ever believed in me before."

"I _know_ that you're worth _everything_." I clarify, sliding up the bed to kiss him.

Then the pink-red sky fades to black and I see the Archdemon land nearby, its huge claws skittering across the tiled floor. I'm standing alone and unarmed as it stalks towards me. Suddenly I see someone in Alistair's armour attack it, but I can't sense Alistair inside. The armour ducks and spins, striking against the dragon over and over until the beast opens its mouth and spews a stream of vile purple flame. The armour collapses and the dragon flies away with a roar.

I kneel by the figure and gently remove the plate helm. I was right, Alistair isn't inside the armour, and instead it houses only a rotting skeleton with familiar golden-brown hair. I feel a scream building inside me as the skeleton croaks my name.

Above me, the Archdemon roars in triumph and I hear the sound of thousands of darkspawn approaching. They slouch across the land, bringing their corruption with them as I watch Ferelden succumb. We failed to kill the Archdemon, Alistair died and the Blight is spreading across the land.

#

I wake with a start, my heart racing, the echo of the darkspawn in my ears. But I'm safe, lying beside my beloved while he rests in the Fade. I catch glimpses of him, sitting on the bed thinking, a depression on the blankets where I had lain alongside him.

There's no morning light here, deep beneath the earth in Orzammar, but I know that we'll need to make a move to Redcliffe soon. To the Arl, to Alistair's destiny whatever that might be.

But as I look at his face, relaxed and beautiful against the soft sheets, I want to cling to this brief time we have together.

My hands roam over his chest, down his sides to his stomach. I tease him, rubbing lightly against the laces of his trousers, feeling him moan in the Fade, his hips rising in his sleep against my gentle touch. I undo the laces, easing his trousers down past his hips and sliding them off. I feel his body respond; see him lie back on the bed in the Fade, his hands at his sides as I torture him with the lightest of touches.

With one hand, I find his nipples caressing them, listening to his breathing speed up as I rain kisses across his stomach, down to his thighs. In the Fade, he lies as he lies here, head thrown back, hands still, but he's conscious, sharing my desire, feeding my own need to touch, and be touched.

I reach my goal, kissing slowly along his length, feeling it grow in size against my lips. His skin tastes of salt and of Alistair, his scent filling my lungs as I breathe. I hear a mixture of whimpers in his sleep and his groans in the Fade as my mouth closes over his burning flesh. I cup my hands beneath him, teasing him mercilessly as he tries to thrust his hips forward, even in his sleep.

I experiment, feeling his reactions in reality and the Fade, my mouth enclosing him as he hardens completely. In the Fade, his hands move to bury themselves in my hair, making his sleeping fingers caress my scalp. My own body tingles with unspent desire as I tease and caress.

**[Oh my love, you find ways to break the rules for everything]** His thoughts ring clearly from his sleeping mind as he struggles to leave the Fade.

I look up through my eyelashes as he wakes, his eyes shining at me.

"You are so beautiful." And his tone, so full of desire and worship, drives me over the edge. I need him, right now.

He feels the atmosphere change and sits up, pulling me onto his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck as he slides his legs off the bed and sits up straight. He kisses me as he lifts my hips, sliding my legs around his waist. I feel him pressing against the core of me as he runs his hands down my sides and across my backside. Moaning against his mouth, I press my hips hard against him.

Bringing my hands to his face, I trace delicate patterns across his cheek lightly with my thumb. I feel my own skin through his eyes, how wonderful it feels to hold me, pressed against him, our desire rising from levels of hunger to desperate starvation as the kiss deepens.

**[Look at me.]** He orders and I break away from his kiss, my breathing laboured.

His face is a marvel to behold: glowing with pleasure, full of concentration, and shining with raw longing and complete abandon. Lost in his eyes, I barely notice him grasp my hips, his hands lifting me above him.

I cup his face, following his features lovingly: the sculpted cheekbones, his unshaven chin; then clasp my hands behind his neck. I see the pupils of his eyes dilate, fluttering closed for a second as I slide my hips down against him, feeling the length of him start to slide inside me.

His face tenses and his lips open in wonder, reverently whispering my name. The sound melts my heart. I shift my hips again, feeling him moving within me, sliding fully inside with a groan.

His eyes never blink or flicker away from mine for an instant, he can see into my soul. This feeling is both romantic and terrifying. We have lived in each others minds, know every secret and yet he still loves me.

I don't close my eyes, allowing myself just a small moan as I arch backwards with him inside of me. He smiles back, lifting my hips with his hands so he can withdraw a little. I can't help moan again with frustration and he gives me a half-smile, pushing my hips down against him firmly.

I arch my back, letting his hands support me as he moves our hips again, withdrawing and teasing me. He brings me down again more firmly and I gasp, instinctively tightening around him, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"My love." Alistair moans against me, rocking his hips to bring his full length inside me. His eyes burn into me, holding me in place as he thrusts from beneath.

I moan and we feel our hips moving together in synch, our mutual pleasure drowning us with our bodies friction. I can feel him inside me and at the same time, know how I feel enclosing around him, warm and wet. The sensations are incredible, mind blowing and we struggle to contain them.

"Now, please, harder," I cry, feeling him drive us over the edge together. All thoughts are swept away by one long moment of intense pleasure. His strong hands hold me safe as we ride the waves together, our bodies shrouded in a sheen of sweat and satisfaction.

When I finally find my breath again, I open my eyes to meet his bright, shining gaze. His arms hold me close as we sit, trembling together, our breath mingling as we pant softly.

"This is why you make a great leader. You have all the best ideas," he smiles and kisses me softly.

#

When we return the camp is packed and ready to set off, with our companions sitting around sharing breakfast. There is much light hearted laughter and I'm pleased that the restful night seems to have been shared by all. Only Zevran is quiet, sitting beside his backpack, sharpening his blades.

"I love your little friend that you found!" Leliana grabs on to my arm and bounces. "He's adorable!"

I look at Oghren, swaying slightly as he tries to grab at Wynne and wonder if we're talking about the same man. "He's certainly a character."

"Oh we spent hours talking last night, we shared some of his ale and then spoke about the Maker and his wife Branka and my Chantry clothing..."

"Your clothing?" I watch as Oghren falls over backwards, giggling.

"Yes, he was so interested in our lives as Sisters. Our vestments and..." I see her stop to think. "Oh, wait... my undergarments. Is that what we ended up talking about? Just how strong is that ale?" She squeals, stomping towards the collapsed dwarf.

"Someone else taking advantage of her while drunk for a change, eh Zev?" I joke. But the elf just blinks and me and continues to sharpen his daggers.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

He looks back at me then, a brilliant smile lighting up his beautiful face. "My dearest, when have you known me to not be okay?"

I snort, but try again. "True, true. So, instead, I ask what ails you, my friend?"

His eyes narrow, but the smile doesn't fade an iota. "I was perhaps slightly disappointed to be sent away from your side yesterday, replaced by people we don't know or trust."

"Alistair still doesn't trust you," I joke but he doesn't even acknowledge it. "You want to know the real reason?"

Zevran nods, stilling his hands from their work on his blades. There is need in his eyes as he breaths. "Yes."

I glance across as Alistair as he organises the mobilisation of our fellows and sit beside Zevran for a moment. "Because I could sense how corrupt it is underneath the dwarven city. The taint has spread everywhere, a sickness in the stone and air that will kill all it touches. Alistair and I are already infected; I didn't want you or Wynne to get sick as well."

He frowns for a moment, before catching my gaze again. "Someone caring about my safety, this is a novelty." He looks at the others packing up and stands, holding out his hand for me. "Can I take a moment of your time, my dear?"

"Of course," I allow him to pull me to my feet and follow him to the edge of the woods. I keep my thoughts soothing and neutral and Alistair doesn't notice me leave.

"You have been a good friend to me, and I wish to tell you something. About why I am here in Ferelden and why I accepted the assignment to kill you and your fellow Grey Warden." His hazel eyes are serious, but I see his discomfort in is folded arms and the way he shifts his balance, never staying still for a moment. "My last mission before this one... did not end well."

I nod, keeping quiet and letting him get this off his chest.

"You must realise that until that day I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often... both as an assassin and a lover."

"And how have you changed?" I grin, nudging him gently.

He laughs, some of the pain in his eyes lessening. "Indeed. I was often told how insufferable I was, right before I ended up in bed with someone." He winks, before his eyes grow serious again. "One of my masters must have grown tired of my boasting. A half-serious bid of mine was accepted, much to my surprise. It was a tough mark, but my friend Taliesen was part of my team, was well as an elven lass named Rinna."

"The girl the Guardian at Andraste's temple mentioned?" I remember something about a girl and regret. It was the first time I'd seen a real emotion on Zevran's face.

"She... she was a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked, beautiful. Everything I thought I desired. I thought I had closed of my heart as a child, but she was special. She touched something within me." He pauses, his eyes dark at the memories. "But it also frightened me. So when Taliesen told me that Rinna had betrayed us to our mark, I believed him and allowed him to kill her."

He pauses to take a breath, his eyes looking far away in his memory. "She begged on her knees. With tears in her eyes, she told me how she loved me, how she had not betrayed us. I laughed and told her that I didn't care."

"Zev, that wasn't true."

He shrugs. "I convinced myself it was true. It was easier than this thing, admitting these feelings that she had awoken in me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows as she bled to death at my feet." He sighs. "But when we killed the mark, we found out that Rinna had not betrayed us after all.

"You had no way of knowing that." I squeeze his shoulder.

"I did not care to know." There is great pain on his face as he continues. "I wanted to tell the Crows... admit our mistake but Taliesen said it would be a waste. So we reported that Rinna died in the attempt. But the master who disliked me told me that he knew what we had done. Knew, and didn't care. And that one day when I had outlived my usefulness, my turn would also come."

"And you felt guilty? That's why you left?" I keep my grip on him, letting him feel some human contact.

"I felt empty. I felt nothing inside. As if she had been nothing. That is why I accepted the assignment against the fabled Grey Wardens. All I wanted was to die, what better way? And then... all this happened. And here I am." He smiles weakly.

"Do you still want to die?" I ask, feeling his body shivering as I hold his shoulder.

"No, what I want is to begin again. Whatever I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it here with you. I owe you a great deal." This time the smile is genuine and I feel myself responding in kind.

"I'm glad to have you with me." I admit. "I feel safer with you by my side, my friend."

His eyes crinkle as he looks up at me, then he steps back and pulls away from my grasp. "Come, let us return to our packing. Your lover is eyeing me with suspicion and I would hate to be killed just as I have decided to live."

Now that I'm not concentrating on Zevran, I feel Alistair listening to my mind and realise he's probably heard the whole conversation. I look over at him, but he drops his gaze to the floor and keeps doing his tasks.

#

As the journey gets underway, I seek out Morrigan before she changes shape and ask her if she has a moment.

"Yes, what is it you wish?" Her reptilian eyes fix on me.

"When we went to the tower, I found something, this." I hand her the grimoire Wynne has been studying. "I didn't know what it was, so I asked Wynne to look at it. She tells me that she thinks it's your mothers."

Her eyes narrow as she accepts the book. "What? You found Flemeth's grimoire? I had wondered if it was recoverable from the Circle tower, but I had yet to speak of it to you." She looks up and for the first time I see how beautiful she is, as a smile lightens her perpetual frown. "How fortunate that you found it on your own. You have my thanks. I will begin study of the tome immediately."

I wonder for a moment if I should tell her what Wynne had researched, before I hear Alistair's opinion clearly.

**[Hell no. That bitch deserves nothing from us.]**

So I let her disappear into the distance, leaping into the air to become a snarling wolf. Oghren is still teasing Leliana, I can hear him talking about being a firebrand between the sheets just as Alistair drops back to join me.

"I didn't mean to listen in earlier, with the assassin" he flushes. "I just couldn't see where you were, so I thought about you and..." He shrugs.

"It's okay, this is hard enough to control at the best of times. I don't mind." I take his hand, our metal gauntlets removing any real intimacy.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about all this," he waves his other hand. "When we down in the Deep Roads, we shared, well, everything really. And I guess I'm wondering about some of the thoughts you had."

"Oh?" I feel his nervousness, both in his emotions and in the way he's looking at the ground as we walk.

"It's about Zevran..." he starts and I laugh.

"I'd never have guessed." I tease, making him chuckle. "You always have that expression of disgust on your face."

"I just wanted to say, I think I finally understand why you like him now, is all."

"Really," I'm surprised. "What on earth did I think about?"

"It was a few things. After the broodmother, you were thinking about Morrigan and Zevran and me. How different our lives were, compared to your own, how much harder things have been for us. We've all had troublesome childhoods, yet you see that Zevran's was the worst. And you're right. I didn't know, till you thought of it, I hadn't even considered, that he was a _slave_ before he met us."

"What else do you call someone who is _sold_ as a child?" I murmur, watching Zevran's back as he teases Wynne up ahead. I can hear her stern voice, but she's smiling.

"Yes, I know. But, he seemed so happy to be a Crow, all his funny assassination stories and seduction stories..." Alistair shrugs.

"Ah yes because you're not someone who'd hide pain behind humour either, hmm?"

He sighs, "I know. And I can see why you respect him for his... humanity, despite the beatings and the torture they put him through. Which is why I wanted to tell you now... while I don't think I'll ever like him, mainly because he can't keep his hands off you, I do understand your... friendship. A bit."

"And your grudging admission is nothing to do with the fact you've read my mind and can see I have no interest in bedding the assassin?" I tease.

He looks down at the ground, a flush rising on his cheeks. "That might have helped quite a lot too, yes." He quickly kisses me on the lips, his grin unrepentant. "I'm still allowed to kill him if he tries it on with you again, right?"

"Of course, I expect no less from you, my love." I laugh as we trudge through the mud. "And knowing Zevran, it'll be _when_ he tries it on again, not if."

#

They're waiting for us at Redcliffe, the Arl and his brother. The messenger I'd sent from Orzammar had told of our imminent arrival, and the castle is in an uproar, preparing for the Arl and his family to move to his Denerim estate.

Alistair and I find ourselves standing in the Arl's study. Teagan leans against the window, his arms crossed above his heavy chain-mail armour. He looks magnificent out of his silk shirts but his expression is grim. The Arl himself is silent, sitting at his desk, his hands folded as Bann Teagan speaks.

"I have spoken to Anora. It seems her father instigates a civil war, even though there are darkspawn spreading throughout Ferelden. She has the same fears as me, he seems mad with ambition. Mad enough to kill her husband and to poison my brother."

Arl Eamon nods, rubbing his chin in thought.

Teagan continues, his expression earnest. "Something else, though, brother. Not long before I left Denerim, Anora disappeared. Her maid too. I think her father has hidden her from us, his paranoia thinking that we are conspiring to work against him."

"Whatever has happened to change him, Loghain must be stopped." Eamon interrupts. "We need a stronger claim to the throne than his daughter, the Queen." Eamon stares at Alistair and Teagan looks at the floor. "I would not propose such a thing is we had an alternative. But the unthinkable has occurred."

"You intend to put Alistair forward as King." I state flatly.

"Yes, Alistair's claim is by blood." Eamon doesn't take his eyes off Alistair. I see Teagan shuffle his feet.

"And what about me? Does anyone care what I want?" Alistair complains.

"You have a responsibility, Alistair. Without you, Loghain will win. Is that what you want?" Eamon keeps staring until Alistair looks at his feet and shakes his head. "Good. It is your duty to Ferelden."

I can feel Alistair's emotions, like a five year old who is in trouble. Guilt and defiance and shame all warring against his own desires.

**[Didn't Eamon tell you your whole life that you were a commoner and in no way in line for the throne?]** I think to Alistair.

**[Yeeees. That's why I was raised in a stable, remember.]** He thinks back.

**[Mhmm, thought so. Fine.]**

Eamon has assumed our agreement to his plan and has continued to talk. "I see the only way to proceed is if I call a Landsmeet, a gathering of all of Ferelden's nobility in the city of Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide between Anora and Alistair." He pauses to smile at me. "What say you, my friend? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing."

"I see no harm in calling a Landsmeet, Ser. We Wardens are ready." I nod to Eamon. Alistair stares at me, but I send him soothing thoughts.

"Let us be off to Denerim and May the Maker watch over us." Eamon stands, clapping his hands together.

I feel Alistair's worry at my words. **[Thess, about being King, you know it's not what I want... but if Eamon says its my duty...]**

**[Do not worry, my love. **_**Our**_** duty is to the Blight. Let Eamon worry about the politics for now.]** I smile at him.

As we stand to leave, I catch Teagan's eye and have an idea that just might work.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"Now we're heading back to Denerim, I'd like to ask you for a favour." Leliana walks beside me, the usual bounce to her step missing.

"Of course, what do you need?" I smile at her.

"I've told you about Marjolaine, remember? I found out that she has a home near the Chantry and I thought if we get chance…" Her eyes plead with me.

"Of course we can look her up. I get the impression from the Bann that there's a lot of waiting around with politics, so we'll have plenty of time."

Leliana looks ahead where Bann Teagan rides beside his brother. His heavy chain-mail glows dully in the light, a sharp contrast to the Arl's bright silks.

"I thought the Bann was going to ride in and sweep you off your feet, you know. I was so busy worrying about him, I missed our little ex-templar winning your heart." Leliana squeezes my hand, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk.

"He'd stolen it before I even met you, Leliana." I give her a wry smile. "The hard part will be seeing if we can stay together through all this…" I wave my hand, indicating the pomp of Eamon's entourage. "And we've still got a Blight to defeat."

"I have no doubt that you will find a way." Her cheeks dimple as she smiles. "I've never seen two people more in love."

And as I watch Eamon riding along, I wonder if love will have anything to do with our future.

"Oh, poor Alistair!" Leliana giggles. "Listen."

I tune in to Alistair's thoughts as Zevran teases him about us.

Zevran wiggles his eyebrows and asks. "It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet. You are... feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired?"

**[I'm only allowed to kill him if he tries it on with Thess...] ** I hear Alistair chanting in his head.** [Maybe I could tell her that he tripped and fell onto my sword?]**

"I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your..." Zevran continues, his expression serious.

"Not listening! La la la la la!" Alistair runs past Leliana and I with his hands over his ears towards the horses at the front, the clanking from his plate almost loud enough to hide our giggles.

Arl Eamon's retinue make surprisingly good time to Denerim, reaching his estates before dusk. Yet word of our travel plans must have reached the city ahead of us as we're barely inside the building when Loghain, Howe and Loghain's lieutenant Ser Cauthrien arrive.

I find it hard to concentrate, leaving the talking to Eamon. Howe stares at me, licking his lips and smirking. He looks like some kind of poisonous toad, his skin damp and sweaty, his lips wide and moist. I can barely stand to breathe the same air as the man, only holding myself back due to Alistair's restraining grip on my arm.

Loghain blusters about working together and uniting for a common cause, but when Eamon suggests Alistair as a ruler of Therein blood, Loghain storms away, saying that if the Emperor of Orlais could not stand against him, neither could we. Howe winks at me once before following his master.

Eamon tells us that we need to prepare for the Landsmeet, test the waters, find our which nobles support Loghain. I excuse myself from the Arl's side to walk for a while to calm down and to think.

I spend some time wandering the Arl's estate, but I can't find Teagan. I'm not even sure if he's here when a maid asks me to meet with the Arl again. As I head towards the study I feel Alistair's emotions. He's upset, panicked almost and I wonder what they've been talking about.

**[I'm here my love. What's wrong? What did he say?] **I send to him as I walk down the corridor.

**[It's just... this. Everything I don't want. Never in my wildest dreams did I want this. But, Eamon tells me that it is in the best interests of the nation...]**

**[Alistair, I've lived inside your mind. I truly understand how much you don't want to be King. And I understand. You don't have to do it, just because the Arl tells you to.]** I reassure him.

**[What about duty? What about honour? I have an obligation to Ferelden.]** He thinks, his despair threatening to overwhelm us.

**[Let's just see where all this leads, shall we? There is still the Blight to contend with. Don't give up yet, my love.]** I send as I reach the study.

It is a brightly lit room, with many bookshelves and comfortable chairs. I feel Alistair to my right, where he's hiding behind a bookcase. His brow is furrowed as he paces on the thin carpet. He looks up when he sees me, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

Eamon catches my attention and gestures to the petite elf standing next to him. "This is Erlina. She's..."

"I am Queen Anora's handmaiden. She sent me here to ask for your help." The elf has a lilting Orlais accent similar to Leliana's. "The queen, she is in a difficult position. She loved her husband, no? And she trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king and dark rumours start, what is she to think?"

"And that's when she spoke to Bann Teagan, asked for his help?" I ask.

"She had tried to speak to her father, but he does not answer. Teagan, he tells her different stories of what happened to her husband. Horrible stories. She suspects she cannot trust her father anymore. But she knows Howe, he is privy to all secrets and not so subtle, no?"

"Howe. The mans a lunatic." The name starts the throbbing in my head again. "What has he done to her?"

Erlina glances at Eamon before continuing. "You know Howe then. He called her every sort of name, 'traitor' being the kindest, and locks her in a guest room." She wrings her hands, her face pleading. "I think her life is in danger. Howe said she would be of more use dead than alive. Especially if he could blame her death on Arl Eamon."

"Surely Loghain wouldn't kill his own daughter just to frame Eamon? I look to the Arl. "Is he that far gone?"

"It's not a risk I'm willing to take." I hear Bann Teagan's angry voice behind me. "I got her into this, I'll go speak to Howe myself."

"Wait, Ser." I hold up a hand. "Could you get us inside, perhaps a servants entrance?" I ask the elf, who nods. "Let us go, Teagan. I think we could be in and out without anyone else being compromised."

"But, this is my fault..." He shakes his head.

"Please, Teagan. Trust me, we can do this without her getting hurt." I look to Alistair, who nods, interested for the first time.

"I... very well, my lady. But please, take care. If anything should happen to anyone because of me..." Teagan puts his hand on his sword hilt, his expression grim.

"It's fine. We'll go now and we'll be back soon." I reassure him.

**[Trap?]** Alistair thinks

**[Trap!] **I reply back.

#

As we cross the city towards Howe's estate, I notice that the back alley we're in is suspiciously empty. A lone raven hops across the square in front of an Andraste statue. As I start up some steps, I feel a hand on my arm and look up. Zevran is staring, both weapons drawn and his body is humming like a bowstring.

"And so here is the mighty Grey Warden at long last. The Crows send their greetings, once again." A man dressed in black leathers smiles down at Zevran.

"So they sent you, Taliesen? Or did you volunteer for the job?" Zevran asks.

The man smirks, "I volunteered of course. When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue... I simply had to see for myself. You can return with me Zevran. It's not too late."

**[Thess... be careful.]** Alistair warns but I ignore him, not taking my eyes off my friend.

I feel Zevran's look at me as he thinks about what Taliesen has said. Finally I hear him whisper to himself. "I am not going to let him hurt you."

Zevran looks up to his former friend and shouts out. "I'm sorry, my old friend. I'm not coming back and you should have stayed in Antiva."

The fight is tough, a large number of Crows attack us from stealth or with bows. But mostly due to Zevran's flashing blades, the numerous Crows are defeated. Wynne heals a small cut on Alistair's cheek, checking for poisons and Zevran touches my arm, a smile on his face.

"And there it is. With Taliesen dead, I am free of the Crows. They will assume I am dead and will not seek me out. This is what I hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me." The tattoos on his cheek ripple as he sighs with relief.

"And what will you do, my friend?" I smile back.

"I swore you an oath, to help. Do you not wish for me to stay and help save the world with you?" Zevran asks.

"I would love for you to stay. We need you. But of course, you're free to do whatever you want." I shiver at the thought of him leaving, but I don't want to force him to do anything.

He watches me, his hazel eyes hooded as he thinks. "That's agreed then. I am with you until the end." He kisses my hand and flashes me a luminous smile.

And I'm glad Alistair is kept occupied by Wynne, because the expression on Zevran's face makes me happier than it should. "Come on, let's get on with our mission. You're far too distracting." I mutter.

#

Anora's maid Erlina helps us to sneak in the back by wearing guard uniforms. I'm pleased to see the inhabitants of Denerim are protesting outside. It seems the Arl isn't the picture of political success that he tries to portray.

It's surprisingly easy to get inside. Once we're in, no-one challenges us and we explore with no difficulty. But nothing is ever simple. Anora's door is locked with magic, making us hunt for the mage to break the spell. The upside is that the mage is with Howe, and I've been waiting a long time to see him.

In Howe's bedroom we find a pile of Grey Warden documents and I wonder who he stole them from and wonder if he and Loghain went back to Ostagar. And just past his bedroom is another shock. A fellow Warden.

Riordan is a Grey Warden from Orlais. He'd come to Denerim to find out what happened at Ostagar, why all communications had stopped, when he was promptly imprisoned by Howe. We release him and tell him to meet us back at Eamon's estate once we have freed the Queen.

The dungeons are a horrifying place. As soon as we enter, there's a young man lying on a torture rack. He begs to be freed, naming his father as Bann Sighard. Zevran picks the locks shackling him to the table and Wynne casts a healing rain over his wounds.

Then I hear _his_ voice, booming out from further down the corridor. A hateful man, he's berating his staff and I can hear the sound of someone crying.

"This is the man who killed your family?" Zevran asks as we close in.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My jaw is clenched so tightly my teeth hurt and my head is throbbing.

"I shall focus on his companions then, and leave him to you." Zevran murmurs. I can feel everyone looking at me, but I keep marching forward, my blade held in front of me.

"Well, well. Look who I see, Bryce's little spitfire. All grown up and still playing at being a man. If only I'd gotten to your bedroom sooner, I'd have taught you the difference." The human toad leers at me. Alistair makes a move forward, but I see Zevran restrain him.

Howe has two mages with him and a smattering of guards, but I only have eyes for him. I notice that he's in full leather armour, with both blades, but I have no fear.

"I thought Loghain made it clear that your pathetic family is long since dust." He continues. He looks sweaty and pale in the firelight, but he's baring his teeth into an attempt at a smile.

"It's their memories that have driven me here." I force through gritted teeth.

"Your mother died on her knees in front of me, covered in your fathers blood. Not quite you, but she did the trick." He grins again, his teeth yellowing and stained. "Your brother rots at Ostagar and his Antivan whore of a wife was burned alongside his brat. Now she died too fast, that was a waste."

I see the mages start to cast protective spells on Howe and think to Alistair. **[Stop them.]**

Alistair skirts around the edges of the room, moving slowly while Howe continues to gloat. I see Zevran vanish and concentrate back onto Howe.

"And what's left? A fool husk of a daughter likely to end her days dying under a rock in the Deep Roads. If only I'd found you before that damned Warden, I'd be looking after you now, in one of these cages..." He licks his lips again as he unsheathes his blades.

My rage is almost blinding me, but I have to ask, I need to know. "Why betray us Howe? My father was your friend."

"He was a traitor to our country, a traitor to me! I'm sinking in obscurity while he has a beautiful wife and gifts from old enemies. He squandered his glory, glory that was rightfully mine. I should have been second after Maric, I should have married Eleanor." He points a dagger at me. "It's only fitting that their deaths have raised me to the ear of a king."

"Loghain is no king." Alistair spits out.

"He is a traitor to the crown and to the Grey Wardens. He will follow you in death soon." I raise my sword in challenge, dropping into a fighting stance.

And for the first time, his slimy demeanour cracks. "There it is! That damned look in the eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back."

And with a snarl, he attacks. A red mist covers my vision and all I care about is this cruel, miserable little man. For all is bitterness, he is a tough fighter, his daggers flying around me in a cloud of death. I've got numerous cuts and bruises all over me when I swing my blade in hard, catching him under his ribs. I feel it catch and with a yell, I throw my whole body behind it, driving the huge blade through his stomach.

As the mist behind my eyes lessens, I see my friends standing watching me, ready to step up if I need them. I twist my sword hard, once, watching as Howe falls onto his back, blood pouring out of his mouth. I hold out a hand, feeling Alistair step up and take it.

"Maker spit on you..." Howe gasps from the floor. "I deserved more."

"You're right, you deserved a lot more. You died too easily." I kick him in the face with my plate boot, satisfied by the crunching of his nose. I feel Alistair's surprise and even a smattering of aversion to the delight I take in Howe's pain.

**[You'll understand when we meet Loghain**.] I promise, watching as Howe breathes his last. ** [Help those prisoners please? I need a moment.]**

Alistair looks at me, trying to understand my emotions. But I lock them down and don't allow myself to feel anything that will scare him more. **[I'm fine. I just need a minute.]**

My hands shake and I stand over Howe's corpse as Alistair deals with the other prisoners. Arl Urien's son Vaughan is also trapped. He claims to have been captured by Howe during the elven uprising and Alistair has no reason to doubt him. He releases him, after Vaughan promises to support us at the Landsmeet. There's also a captured Templar, Ser Irminric, who had been on the trail of the blood mage Jowan. Alistair talks to him and promises to help him recover while Wynne casts her healing spells.

**[Taking on the Chantry. Howe was an even bigger fool than I thought.]** Alistair wonders.

I'm still looking down at Howe's corpse when I feel soft leather-gloved hands wrap around my shoulder. I look down slightly at Zevran as he stands close beside me, his head by my shoulder.

"It is over, my dear. Come, I hear there is a beautiful Queen that needs rescuing by a handsome elf." Despite his words, he doesn't move, waiting for me.

"It hasn't helped." I bash a gloved hand against my chest. "It's still hollow, in here." I look at Zevran, at the pity in his eyes. "Maker, it hurts."

"It always will, my dear. But you have done all you can to lessen the pain, now you have to live with what's left." He squeezes my shoulders and points at Alistair, who is still crouching by the lyrium-addled templar. "He will help you make a new life and the pain will slowly fade away."

I take a deep breath and swallow past the lump in my throat, dropping my sword to hug Zevran quickly. "Thank you." I brush my lips across the tattoo on his cheek, tasting spices briefly. His eyes are wide but he doesn't move as I grab my sword and make my way over to Alistair. I glance behind me to where Zevran stands alone, a silhouette above a corpse.

Zevran is right. Even just the smile Alistair gives me helps with the pain and I know that with time, I will be able to think of my family again without hurting.

This time when we reach Anora, the magical lock is gone. She's wearing a guard uniform, long past any mileage we could get from the disguise, but she's safer in armour, so I let her follow behind me.

Ser Cauthrien guards the exit, with over twelve guards and a mage. She accuses me of murdering Howe and offers me mercy if I surrender.

"I will stand down. You don't know the whole story." I call out to her.

[**Whaaat!]** Alistair yells. **[Why stop now? Cauthrien is all that stands between us and freedom.]**

"Take Anora to Teagan now, I'll follow soon." I whisper to Zevran. I see him open his mouth to argue, before nodding once and pulling on the Queen's arm.

"Killing them just reinforces Loghain's lies about me. We're better than that." I say to Ser Cauthrien's face, while I feel Zevran sneaking away behind me.

"I'm surprised this ended peacefully. Bring the Wardens; Loghain doesn't care about the rest." Cauthrien waves her hand and dismisses us as her guards surround us. There's a smashing pain on my temple and everything goes black.

* * *

* I'm sorry about releasing that scumbag Vaughan. I know who he is, but Thess & Alistair didn't.

And I know my Serenity reference wasn't subtle - but who didn't think TRAP! when going to rescue Anora?


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks for your lovely reviews and comments, I hope you're still talking to me by the end of this chapter! Much thanks as always to Aaliia and Desert Willow for spotting my numerous mistakes :)

**

* * *

Chapter 26**

My head throbs and when I try to open my eyes, the bright torchlight makes my head hurt more. I feel Alistair's arms wrapped around me and he's rocking, whispering my name under his breath.

"Alistair?" I croak, squinting up at him.

"Oh thank the Maker, you're awake. I was getting really worried." His arms tighten around me and I feel the heat of his body against mine. We're both dressed only in smallclothes and I see iron bars behind his head. This room stinks of human waste and death and I'm confused.

"Where are we?" I blink once or twice, his amber eyes coming into focus.

"I'm not entirely sure. It's not the royal place dungeon, I think. Too orderly. Fort Drakon, perhaps?" He brushes a few stray hairs away from my cheek and kisses me.

I sit up, staying within his embrace and take stock of our surroundings. It's a small dirty cell with a sturdy metal door and a solid lock. Stone flooring that looks impossible to break through.

"Really could do with Zevran and his _deft hands_ for that lock." I sigh. I notice bruises and blood on Alistair's legs. Twisting around, I see that he's been fighting un-armoured, with cuts and marks all over his body.

"Alistair! What's happened? Are you okay?" I run my hands over his body, feeling for deep wounds or broken bones.

"I'm fine, don't worry." He captures my hands with a small smile. "Those stupid guards tried to..." He gulps. "Doesn't matter, the point is you're safe." I feel his worry and fear for my safety, with flashes of his previous burning rage at the guards as they tried to touch me.

"Thank you." I press a kiss above his heart. "I love how you take care of me."

His smile broadens and I kiss him again, deeply. Honey and chocolate and silk. I could kiss him forever….except that it's cold and hard on this prison floor.

"Now, come on, let's get out of here," I say.

"You have a plan? Of course you do," he grins, loosening his grip.

"Close your eyes and pretend to be asleep. And you're going to hate this, but trust me, it'll work." I walk towards the bars, pulling the strip of cloth that covers my breasts lower so that I'm almost uncovered.

"Oh Maker," he closes his eyes and lies back on the dirty straw mattress. **[Be careful.]**

I watch as a lone guard circles the room, his mail clanking with each step. As he gets closer, I lean against the bars, folding my arms so that I push my breasts up higher.

As the guard spots me, I see him pause, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. I take a huge breath and sigh, watching as the man's eyes drop to my chest as it heaves.

"If you're not hurt, I don't care," he mutters.

"It's cold in here... I'm lonely." I try to pout, feeling Alistair's discomfort radiating out from behind me.

The guard hesitates, so I bite my lip and move my arms so that I'm cupping my own breasts. I see the guards expression change and he moves towards the door. "Well, I _could_ keep you company..."

Locking the door behind him, the guard glances across to Alistair's sleeping form, so I step forward, running my hand down his chest. "Why don't you take that off, so we can... get started?" I purr.

**[Thess, why don't we jump him now?]**

"Maker, they put a lot of buckles on this thing." The guard complains as he unbuckles his body armour.

**[He's in full armour with a mace. Be patient, he's getting undressed.]**

The guard is hopping on one foot, trying to remove a boot when I slam my knee into his face. He falls over, his expression comical as I kick him in the stomach. Winded, he can make no sound as Alistair joins me in knocking him unconscious. I fish the key out of the pile of armour with a triumphant grin.

"You're right, I hated it but it did work," Alistair grumbles as he pulls my breast-band back into place. "Next time, we pretend I'm sick."

"Fine with me, but I'd prefer it if there wasn't a next time." I unlock the door and exit cautiously.

The prison seems quiet and I look down at the torture chambers beneath us to check for more guards. What I see there feels like a punch in the chest. There are two badly mutilated corpses discarded on a bloody rack. One of them is definitely Mother Mallol, the priestess from Highever and the other looks a lot like my childhood friend, Ser Gilmore. His body is so damaged, I can't be sure. But in my heart I know.

"Thess?" Alistair touches my shoulder. "What's wrong? I don't understand."

I push down against the feelings and clench my fists. Be practical, get him out of here, survive this. "Nothing we can do anything about now. Come on." I stride away without a backwards look, but my throat hurts when I swallow.

"Did you know them?" Alistair asks as he pads behind me barefooted.

I don't reply and just send across images of jousting with Ser Gilmore, playing in the winter snow, our giggling during mass and Mother Mallol smiling indulgently at us. I end with an image of leaving Gilmore guarding the doors from Howe's men.

**[Sorry] **He pauses for a moment to think.** [I think I'd have kicked Howe in the face, too.]**

**[Good.]**

I head toward a chest, where I see our armour and weapons piled inside in a heap. It all seems too easy, and I wonder if there's another trap in the offing. There's a guard in the next room, and I'm sad to have to kill his pair of Mabari hounds, but their barking could rouse the whole Fort.

And either Andraste smiles on us, or the Fort Commander is a complete moron but the armoury is right next to the prison. Decked out in guard uniforms, we can make our way through the fort with ease. Overhear a password here, 'borrow' a sword there and we're halfway out the door when I hear a very familiar voice.

"Look at us! The Broma Brothers are twins! Not identical, of course, but twins, nonetheless." I hear Zevran's musical laugh.

"And I'm the pretty one." Oghren finishes with a belch.

"We have travelled here at great expense to perform at the particular request of Teyrn Loghain. We have performed for archons and empresses!" Zevran cries out.

"And children and, eh, pets of all ages!" Oghren growls.

I push open the door and look into the eyes of a very relieved elf. They're both wearing bright red and gold costumes, with their weapons covered in ribbons and bows.

"The Commander expects you at the palace. Follow me," I grunt, barely acknowledging them.

"Of course, my dear lady." I see them drop in behind Alistair and we walk out of the front gates unchallenged.

As we turn down an alley leading back into the city, Zevran bursts into peals of laughter and pokes Oghren in the shoulder hard. "There! Not so difficult, was it?"

Oghren reaches behind and starts pulling at his drawers. "Heh... easy for you to say, elf. These clown pants are riding up my arse something fierce."

I drop my regulation sword and grab Zevran, kissing him quickly. Happiness dances in his eyes and he squeezes my waist.

"Thanks so much for coming for us, I didn't expect it." I release Zevran and bend to drop a kiss on Oghren's forehead.

Zevran's eyes grow a little darker and he glances at Alistair. "I've been in prison before and it is no place for a lady such as you." He raises an eyebrow, but Alistair shakes his head.

"She's okay, I didn't let them near her," Alistair mutters, taking my hand.

"Good." Zevran holds Alistair's gaze for a moment before smiling at me again, brushing at some dirt on my cheek with his thumb. "I would hate to have to kill everyone inside the Fort if anyone had harmed you."

#

Eamon is obviously blinded by his dreams of a Theirin on the throne. Or perhaps it's obvious to me because I recognise the look in Teagan's eyes. He stares at Anora the way Alistair stares at me, like she's his sun, as if his world revolves around her.

Eamon clasps my hand, shaking it heartily. "Maker's breath, it's good to see you my friend. And Alistair?"

"He's with Wynne, nothing major, some minor cuts." I smile at Anora, who seems oblivious to Teagan's adoration. "It's good to see you well too, your Highness."

"I am thankful for your rescue, Warden," Anora smiles serenely and Teagan finally looks away from her to me.

"And I too, Thess. Once again, you have answered my prayers, my lady." Teagan bows his head, one hand crossed over his heart.

"It was the least I could do to help you, Teagan," I smile back. I notice Anora's eyes narrow as she glances between us, but she composes herself quickly.

"Now, however, we must work together. My father has gone mad. I didn't believe it at first, but..." She looks at Teagan. "I'm sure of it now. He's gripped with paranoia so severe he's lost all reason. He's probably telling the nobles that you've kidnapped me and murdered Howe." She wrings her hands.

"At least that snake is dead," I say.

"Our position at the Landsmeet is not strong, and this conflict does little to help us." Eamon frowns, rubbing his brow.

"They have only just arrived in the city, Anora. They don't know of the unrest in the alienage," Teagan says. He stands up from his position behind Anora and moves to her side. "Tell Thess about the elves."

"Few elves accompanied the army to Ostagar, yet the unrest is worse there than anywhere else in Denerim. I am convinced that Howe and my father must have given them reason. I don't know exactly what though..."

"Perhaps you and Alistair could investigate? Evidence for the Landsmeet?" Teagan suggests.

Anora opens her mouth to speak again, but I see Teagan touch her shoulder and shake his head, mouthing 'later'. She closes her mouth and nods, giving me a practiced smile.

I wonder what it is she wanted to tell me, but I trust Teagan and know that we will talk later. I excuse myself and look for the Warden we rescued.

Riordan tells me that he knew Duncan, and as soon as he says the name, I relay our conversation to Alistair. Riordan describes Duncan as I remember, tough as stone and just as grizzled with a soft spot for his recruits. I hear Alistair sigh and hope that we can challenge Loghain soon for his sake.

Riordan offers to head towards Ostagar to search for the Archdemon, once his wounds have healed. I suggest going with him, but he disagrees, pointing out that I should keep my role as commander of the armies that we've gathered. I thank him and agree, for the first time really thinking about what it might mean to lead an army into battle. No longer responsible for a few companions, now I would be leading hundreds to their deaths.

#

Maker, I'm a naïve fool. Almost twenty and I had no idea alienages were this horrific. They were always talked about as districts where elves could live with their own kind, for convenience. At Highever, elves got the short end of the stick sometimes, but I had no idea they were forced to live in slums like _this_. The walls are so high, sunlight barely creeps in. But where there is light, it just highlights the decay.

As we enter, I see the population hide, most of them disappearing into shadows or doorways. There are some who lie huddled on the ground, coughing, who look too sick to move.

The houses are one storey, built of wood with matted straw roofs. Most of the houses themselves looked cared for, but the streets are littered with garbage and beggars.

"How they live," Zevran snarls. "They have accepted being considered inferior. Why do they not fight to earn more respect?"

I pick my way through the blood and sewage, looking for some explanation for Anora's claims, when Zevran calls out, "Soris?"

A young red-headed elf looks up and smiles. "It's you! I didn't thank you before, did I?"

I don't recognise him, but stand back as he and Zevran chat.

**[He was in Arl Howe's dungeons. I think you were helping that Ostagar survivor, Rexel, was it? So Zevran released this guy]** Alistair explains.

Zevran comes back to my side, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You would not believe the things he has told me..."

"Anything that might explain the unrest?" Alistair asks, stepping over the corpse of a dog with a grimace.

"Some of it yes. There was a problem with a wedding a little while ago, but mmm…never mind that right now. It seems the main problem is that people are getting sick and disappearing."

"Sick _and_ disappearing?" I question.

Zevran shrugs then points across to a large crowd beneath a spreading oak tree. "Soris told me to speak to his cousin Shianni. Let me have a word."

Zevran slips into the crowd, making his way towards a pretty elf with braided red hair. I can see them having a heated conversation before Zevran return to us, kicking at a huge rat as it scurries past his boot.

"Mages from Tevinter are taking people away and they are not coming back. It sounds suspicious, so I promised her that we would investigate this hospice, no?" He's glaring at the guards standing before the hospice, but there are too many elves standing around, I don't want to cause any trouble here.

We bribe the guard at the rear of the hospice to let us inside. There we find Tevinter men guarding elves in cages. The slaughter is merciless, and soon we're able to release the caged elves. I gather up the keys and papers on the desk and we return to Shianni.

She suggests checking the apartment buildings, down the alley behind the hospice. The elves in the apartments are scared and I happily share some of the gold we found in the hospice amongst them. The keys unlock a door at the south end of the building, where Tevinter guards attack us.

"Slavery," Zevran spits. "I had heard that you enlightened beings in Ferelden did not practice this."

"We don't. Usually." Alistair's face is black with anger. "This is more of Loghain's insanity."

An elven rogue challenges us as we enter, yet Alistair intimidates her into taking us to her leader, Caladrius.

As we look across the warehouse, I see more cages, filled with desperate elves. There are many Tevinter guards surrounding a well dressed mage. Caladrius is polite to me, almost charming in his witty remarks about Loghain's growing paranoia. But it is when he admits to owning documents showing Loghain's culpability in selling slaves that I understand why Anora sent us here.

He offers to give me the documents and money if he can go free, taking his slaves with him. It's the first time I've ever seen Zevran side with another elf as he scowls at the suggestion.

"I feel dirty, we're not considering this, are we?" Alistair asks.

**[Never, my love, not even to beat Loghain] **I assure him.

"I have a counter offer. I kill you and take everything for free." I draw my blade.

The fight is tough, made harder by the realisation that this is a blood mage. He sucks the life force out of his allies every time he sustains an injury. Alistair is disgusted, attacking him with every templar skill he possesses until the mage falls. Even on the ground, he offers to extend my life by using the life force of the slaves. Alistair answers the mage by running him through with his sword.

I rummage through the room until I find the evidence Caladrius mentioned, while the others release the slaves, making sure they are fit and well. The documents will be most damning for the Landsmeet, authorising the removal of elves from Denerim's alienage and bearing the seal of Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir.

There is just one final issue I want answered before we attended the Landsmeet, and it is the most important question of all.

#

Alistair has gone to bathe after the events in the alienage, so I use the opportunity to find Teagan alone. He's in the Arl's study pacing behind the desk when I find him.

"Teagan, may I have a word?" I ask.

He looks up, startled out of whatever deep reverie he was in. "Ah, my lady. I was just thinking about you."

"Don't let Anora hear that, or we'll both be in trouble," I joke, leaning on the doorframe, my dress swishing around my legs.

He blushes a deep red and stops pacing, folding his arms. "You... ah, you noticed that?" With a deep sigh, he drops into the chair behind the desk, his head in his hands. "Anora wanted me to tell you that she is intent on keeping the throne. She was the real power behind Cailan, ruling for the last five years."

"I admit my ignorance, Ser. As you know, my father kept me from the politics of Ferelden. How is her rule seen?"

"She is well loved, by both nobles and commoner alike." He looks down at the desk. "She is a good Queen; she cares about Ferelden, more than anything."

"More than you?" I ask.

He nods, not looking up. "You're right in that she loves me; she always has. But her father taught her that marriages last longer if the bride and groom know what they're getting into. An arranged marriage allows you to learn about your proposed husband and Cailan was chosen for her a few years after he was born. Loghain taught her that it never works if you foolishly fall in love and reality only sets in afterwards."

"Bitter words. I wonder who broke his heart?"

Teagan stays quiet, so I explain my idea, the one I had at Redcliffe.

"You know how I feel about Alistair?" Teagan nods in response. "And so I hope you know that if he wanted to be king, I would be right beside him, trusting him to be the best king Ferelden had ever seen. Because, blood or no blood, he's intelligent, kind and just. I can think of no better traits for a ruler."

Teagan nods again, his expression dark.

"But, he doesn't want to be king, and I for one agree with him, whatever Eamon says. Alistair is first and foremost a Grey Warden, politically neutral as we should be. It would look like we Wardens were aiming to take the throne, a bad move after having only recently been allowed back into the country."

Teagan snorts, a wan smile on his face. "Sound political reasons, yes. But the real one is?"

I feel Alistair's presence walking towards the room behind me and know that he's listened to our whole conversation.

**[Because you want me to be happy]** he thinks, walking up to my side and taking my hand.

I nod, a lump in my throat as I step closer to him. **[More than anything, you deserve a chance to make your own decisions. And you decided that you don't want this.]**

He cups my cheek, his amber eyes shining. **[You truly think I would make a good king?]**

**[A great king, yes, I do.] **I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him closer.

**[But Anora, she would make a better queen?] **he asks and I can feel no self-doubt in the question, so I can afford to be truthful.

**[She has the experience and the will. She cares for her people. I believe that if she marries Teagan to temper her ambition, then yes, my love, she would be a wonderful queen.]**

**[Okay then...] **Alistair blinks at me, his jaw dropping. **[Wait, what? **_**Teagan**_**?]**

As if on cue, Teagan clears his throat and I realise it must look like we are just gazing vapidly into each others eyes. I stand on tip toes and kiss Alistair quickly before facing the Bann.

"The real reason we want this, is that we believe that you and Anora would be in the best interests of Ferelden," I say. **[You do believe that, right?]**

**[Teagan?]** Alistair thinks again. **[I guess so. Rather him than me, that's for sure.]**

Teagan shakes his head. "My lady, I appreciate your suggestion. That you consider our feelings as well as your own, but my brother, he will never allow..."

"Since when does Eamon choose who will go before the Landsmeet? I understood that was my task for tomorrow?" I raise my chin. "Am I not correct, Ser?"

Teagan stands up and begins pacing again. "I…I had not hoped. I would never dream that Anora would finally be within reach."

"And being crowned as Prince Consort?" I ask.

Teagan laughs. "That accolade was neither Alistair's dream nor my own, dear lady. But I have lived the political life for a long time, I do not fear it."

"Then perhaps you could talk to Anora, before the Landsmeet tomorrow? I think we have a chance to beat Loghain, and if we have a solid proposal for a ruler as well..."

"Yes, yes indeed." Teagan rushes from behind the desk to kiss my hand. "I'll go speak to her at once."

Alistair is still standing beside me, holding my hand with a tiny smile on his face. Relief flows out of every pore and he's the most relaxed I've feel him for days.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" I ask, pulling him close.

"Yes, oh Maker, yes." He kisses me quickly and I feel his smiling mouth pressing against my own.

"And you're happy just living the life of a Grey Warden with me?" I smile back, my fingers clasped behind his head.

"Whenever you're in my arms, I'm happy." Alistair bites the tip of my nose playfully.

But the mention of being in his arms invites back the stray thought, the one I'd been doing my best to hide and it slips out. I feel Alistair freeze in my arms, his eyes widening as he listens.

**[Oh. Oh how stupid of me. Of course.] **He frowns.** [You're right, what's the point of crowning a king who could be insane six months later.]**

**[Alistair, no, that wasn't my reason, I promise you!] **I tighten my arms around his neck.

**[No, I know. But it's still a valid thought. Even if we survive this Blight, it may not matter.] **His amber eyes are dark as he gazes over my shoulder into the future.

**[As long as we're together, my love. That's all we can ask.] **And I bury my head against his shoulder to stifle the tears.** [Please Alistair, let's go to bed and forget all of this for one more night.]**

He sweeps me into his arms and carries me across the hallway to my bedroom, kicking the heavy oak door shut behind him.

* * *

Hope you didn't mind my mixing of escaping Drakon and being rescued. I love all of the excuses to get in, but the circus one is my favourite.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**[Ready for this?]** I look to Alistair as we stand before the ornate doors in the Royal palace.

**[I'm ready. I hope the Landsmeet listen to you about Anora and Eamon will probably go right back into a coma... but me? I'm relieved]** he reaches out a gloved hand and carefully brushes my cheek with his thumb.

I pull Alistair's face closer to my own, lost in his amber eyes. His thumb slips under my chin to tilt it up where he captures my lips with a kiss. His own mouth is soft like velvet, igniting such a fire in my chest that it nearly suffocates me. The touch of his cool fingers to my cheek is torture and I want nothing more than to run away with him.

"Is this really the time?" Zevran frowns at us. I hear Wynne huff in agreement.

**[There should always be time for this**,] Alistair thinks, pulling away and straightening up. I nod in agreement and step back from him. I square my shoulders and push open the massive doors with both hands.

Ser Cauthrien paces inside; back and forth across the blue carpet between tall, rough hewn pillars. As the doors open, she storms towards us, her armour clanking.

"Warden, I am not surprised that it has come to this," she shouts. "And Alistair. If you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already _be_ in the Landsmeet, now wouldn't you?"

"Ser Cauthrien, I know that you are loyal to Loghain..." I begin.

**[She had us thrown in prison. She doesn't care about us] **Alistair thinks.

**[I know, but I'd rather not go in there covered in blood. Loghain accuses us of being murderers, we don't need to help prove his point]**

"He is the _reason_ you are free to desecrate the Landsmeet. But I will not let you past until the nobles of Ferelden confirm my lord as regent." She puts her hand on the hilt of her sword and makes as if to draw it. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Zevran has disappeared into the shadows near the pillars.

"I understand your loyalty and respect. Believe me, I do. But can you not see what he has become? Retreating and leaving the army to die? Your King? Our friends?"

"I... " she shakes her head, looking down at the floor.

"Cauthrien, he's poisoned Eamon, he's been selling elves into slavery! You must have seen a change in him." I watch a shadow move across the floor as Zevran moves in behind her.

"I have had... so many doubts of late," she mutters. "He is a great man, but his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness." She looks up, and I notice tears running down her cheeks. "I cannot betray him. Do not ask me to!"

"Then let us stop him. It's the only way," I shake my head to Zevran once, before closing the distance to Cauthrien. "I understand that you love him, but he has done terrible things," I murmur.

"I never thought duty would taste so bitter," she hangs her head and steps aside. "Stop him from betraying everything he once loved."

As we enter the main chamber, I hear Eamon's voice booming out across the assembled nobles. It's a large room, with two balconies, Eamon on one side and Loghain on the other. The nobles are listening to Eamon, but there is an undercurrent of dissatisfied muttering.

"Teyrn Loghain might have freed Ferelden, but does it give him the right to sacrifice everything good about our nation? He would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear!"

Loghain's mocking applause interrupts Eamon and the crowd swivel as one to look up at Loghain. Now that Howe isn't around to distract me, I see that the Teyrn looks tired, huge black bags hang under his eyes and his hair lies limp on his head.

"You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne, the bastard son of Maric with you and the Warden pulling his strings?" He glares down the hall at us as we enter, the nobles moving out of our way. "Ah, and here we have the puppeteer."

I sketch a small curtsey back to him, raising a few laughs from the braver nobles. But Loghain is not amused, pushing through the crowds towards us. Alistair stands beside me and I feel Zevran inches from my left hand side. Both of them radiate tension.

I feel Alistair's rage building as he glares at Loghain. **[Stay calm, we need to use our heads here to get through this] ** I think.

Alistair nods back, his thoughts drowning out Loghain's ranting **[I can hardly bear to look at him]**

**[He won't get away with this. Whatever we have to do, he's going to die today] **I promise.

"How much is the price of Ferelden honour now?" Loghain roars, spit flying from his mouth as he rants.

"The Blight is the threat here, not Orlais," I project my voice, but try to keep it calm and reassuring.

A noblewoman steps forward, describing the number of refugees in her bannorn because of the Blight. I recognise Arl Wulff when he calls out his agreement. An old friend of my fathers, he explains how the south has already fallen to the darkspawn.

"These Grey Warden's claim the ability to stop the Blight, yet failed spectacularly at Ostagar," Loghain snarls.

I feel Alistair tense beside me and send him soothing thoughts as Loghain continues to rant about Orlesian chevaliers. The nobles have left a large space for him to walk and I wonder at the expressions of fear on their faces. I wonder how often he has ranted publicly like this. How long has his breakdown being going on?

Zevran whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. "That man on the balcony, Vaughan wasn't it? We rescued him from Howe's prison, no?"

I look at the man Zevran has indicated and recognise the man by his self-satisfied expression. "Yes, that was him. Why?" I murmur, looking back at Loghain as he shouts.

"Ah good, I must pay him a visit later." Zevran whispers.

"Hmmm?" I try to focus on Loghain.

"Oh nothing for you to worry about, my dear. A small favour for Soris and Shianni is all." Zevran leans away from me, humming a tune softly to himself.

I wait for Loghain to pause to draw a breath then I call out. "You sold Ferelden citizens into slavery to fund your war."

There are collective hisses and boo's as the information passed around the room. "What's this? There is no slavery in Ferelden. Explain yourself," an unknown voice calls out.

Loghain pauses and looks up to the assembled nobles on the balcony. "There is no saving the alienage. Damage from the riots, bodies in the streets. There is no chance of holding it if the Blight comes here. Whenever regret I may feel for those elves, I did the right thing for Ferelden. That money will protect us from Orlais."

The crowd hisses and I can feel them backing away from Loghain. Zevran is tensed behind me and I hold out a hand to my side, asking for calm. I see him glare at me out of the corner of my eye, but he drops his hands away from his daggers.

"I cannot agree with your actions, Ser..." I begin.

"Nor can I." Anora's voice rings out across the hall and the room dissolves into whispers. She appears from a side room, holding onto Teagan's arm as they slowly towards her father. I see Eamon start, his eyes wide as he watches his brother.

"Anora, when I heard that the Warden had kidnapped you, I feared you dead." Loghain steps towards her.

"Indeed? Strange how you have not raised that question until now then." She turns her attention to the hall. "Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, my father is no longer the man you know. I would already have been killed, if not for this Grey Warden."

"Anora, please." Loghain turns to glare at me. "You've poisoned my daughter against me."

"This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your King as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. He seized the throne before Cailan's body was cold and locked me away so that I could not reveal his treachery."

The nobles gasp, loud muttering erupting around the room, with everyone looking at Loghain.

"I only wanted to protect you from all this, my girl." Loghain whispers. Most of the hall won't have heard, but I'm close enough to see the anguish on his face.

**[Don't pity him]** Alistair snarls.

**[I don't. I'm just trying to understand him and I'm failing.] **

I hear Loghain calling for the Landsmeet to make a decision and focus on the discussion. After the admission of slavery and Anora's damning claims it is unsurprising that almost all of the Landsmeet side with us.

"When we first met at Ostagar, I never thought it would have come to this," Loghain says to me as we approach him.

"Indeed Ser, I still had hopes that the king and the Wardens would win that battle and defeat the Blight. Hopes that you crushed." I stop in front of him with Alistair by my side.

"A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that, once. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me." Loghain stares at Alistair as if it's the first time he's seen him.

**[Arrogant bastard]** Alistair is boiling with rage and I know that it is time.

"Who will face me?" Loghain calls out.

Alistair steps forward, unsheathing his sword and dropping into a fighting stance without a word. The nobles in the hall pull backwards leaving a large area of the floor clear.

"Then let us test the mettle of Maric's bastard. Prepare yourself."

And while I know Alistair is the best warrior I have ever seen, my heart is still in my mouth as he circles the Hero of River Dane. Loghain has years of experience behind him and a bitter desire to win. But Alistair's superior skills allow him to easily batter down the Teyrn, knocking him to the floor, covered in his own blood.

Loghain pushes himself to his knees, wiping away the blood on his cheek. "So there is some of Maric in you, after all. Good."

"Forget Maric. This is for Duncan." I feel a mixture of rage and love as Alistair looks down at Loghain while thinking of his mentor. Anora looks pleadingly over at us, but I ignore her. Alistair looks at me, a silent question in his eyes.

**[For Duncan] **I answer him.

The whole of the Landsmeet is silent as Alistair raises his sword. Lunging forward, he kills Loghain in a single stroke, blood spraying across the room, covering his daughter.

I remember how I felt about Howe and take Alistair's hand, leaning against his side as he breathes heavily. He kisses the top of my head in between breaths.

**[That was surprisingly satisfying]** he admits.** [Not enough though. I understand about Howe now. Death is… Not nearly enough]**

"So it is decided." Eamon walks through the crowd towards us. "Alistair wil..."

I look to Teagan who nods at me, a small smile on his face. "Anora will remain as ruler." I call out, my voice echoing around the hall.

"Thank you, my lady." Anora nods to me. "We agreed that it was wise not to disrupt Ferelden's governance any further in a time of such crisis. Alistair is a Grey Warden, and as such has relinquished his title and surname, leaving no claim to the crown for himself or his heirs."

Eamon stands silent, shocked at this turn of events. He stares at Alistair open mouthed as Anora pauses and holds out her hand to Teagan. He takes her it and moves forward to stand by her side.

"My first act as queen is to announce my upcoming marriage to Bann Teagan Guerrin of Rainesfere."

Eamon's face goes a strange purple colour and he opens and closes his mouth but no words come out. The crowd itself is silent, but there are no murmurs of dissent or outrage.

**[They've accepted it. Maker knows how you got them to do that]** Alistair marvels.

**[I've done nothing; it's their trust in Anora. Teagan told me how loved she is.]**

"And now lords and ladies of Ferelden, there is still a Blight to defeat and armies to gather. I appoint Thessaly of the Grey Wardens to lead us in both. We cannot allow this land to be further threatened by the Archdemon."

There are a few cheers and the crowd nods in approval. Eamon takes a step towards us, then changes his mind, shaking his head.

**[It's over. I'm free]** Alistair smiles at me, the relief and happiness drowning us both as the crowd cheers.

#

Eamon has withdrawn to his study so I begin preparations for the final fight with my companions. Alistair is talking to Sten and Oghren about armour when I spot Zevran slipping back into the room. He has a huge smile on his face and he's polishing one of his daggers.

"Zev? Everything okay?"

"Ahh dear lady," he grabs hold of a hand and kisses it. "Just that little favour for Soris all completed. Now I am yours to command once again."

Before I can get any sense out of him I hear a tap at the door and Anora stands wringing her hands, with Teagan close behind her.

"So it's done. My father is dead. Such a waste," she sighs.

"There's a lot to be done still," I answer, not wishing to be drawn into this conversation. "Especially with regards to our agreement." I flick my glance to Teagan, his blue eyes crinkling as he smiles.

"That's true," she nods to me as Teagan places a hand on her shoulder. "I think it is more than a fair price for your support at the Landsmeet. But for now, Eamon is ready to leave for Redcliffe, please join us as soon as you're able. You have united Ferelden, now it is time to face the Blight."

I bow my head as they exit the room. Zevran, my constant shadow, appears at my side. "And what deal is this?" A slight frown twists the tattoos on his cheek.

"I told Anora that I would only support her claim if she would change the lot of elves in Ferelden. Starting with the alienage, I wanted their status as second class citizens to be rescinded." I feel his eyes on me so I bumble ahead, trying to explain myself. "I don't care if it takes longer than their lifetimes to change everyone's opinion, we as a people should know to act better than this."

"Why would you do this?" his eyes are dark as he watches me. "No, no matter why. It was done, that is what counts." Zevran is thoughtful as he steps away, but I can feel his gaze burning into my back for the rest of the evening.

#

The journey to Redcliffe is swift and uneventful. There is little time for chat as we follow Eamon's trail along the main highway.

Scattered darkspawn are attacking the castle as we arrive, but we manage to get inside and lock the gates as a soldier comes hurrying out to meet us. "My lady, I was told to watch for your arrival. Your comrade Riordan has news for you."

It is grave news indeed as it seems that we've misunderstood the movements of the darkspawn. Riordan has 'listened in' on the horde to hear that they are moving away from Redcliffe towards Denerim. And the Archdemon has finally shown itself, leading the horde. Eamon and I agree that we must force march our armies to protect the city. The armies are preparing to move by daybreak and Riordan asks for Alistair and I to join him.

I pace up and down the room as Riordan speaks, but all I can hear is that one of us must die. I should have known, should have suspected this. How could Duncan not have told us?

**[Perhaps he was going to. You'd only just joined the day before... He never got a chance] **

**[And Riordan? He waits until now to tell us? Maker's breath what a mess**] I run my fingers through my hair, pulling hard enough to hurt.

"Let's rest now, my friends. I will let you return to your rooms." Riordan holds open his door and waits for us to leave.

I wander out of the room, my thoughts whirling. All I can think about are the dreams; Alistair hanging dead from the Archdemon's mouth, Alistair's armour filled with a skeleton. Even if I didn't know, the Archdemon has been taunting me for weeks.

**[If Riordan falls, would you let me take the final blow?]** I ask. Alistair doesn't speak, but I can see the answer in his mind.

"I need to speak to Teagan about the defence of Redcliffe, meet you in your room later?" He changes the subject, walking away from me as I pause outside the bedroom we stayed in last time.

**[Hurry]** I don't need to voice my fear that this might be our last night together, as I can hear him thinking the same thing. But while I am thinking about Riordan, making sure that he is the one to take the final blow, Alistair is thinking about himself. He is determined that he will not let me near the Archdemon, that he will be the one to make the sacrifice. Stupid.

I kick the bedroom door open, my anger boiling over just as I see a figure silhouetted against the fire. My hand goes to my sword automatically.

"Do not be alarmed. It is only I." Morrigan says with a smile twisting her face.

* * *

And now, after doing a chapter a weekday for about 5 weeks (excluding the first smut chapter which took two days as I had never written smut before and boy is it hard to do!) I'm taking a little longer to write the last few chapters. I'm aiming for early next week - so not too long a gap. Thanks for reading :)


	28. Chapter 28

Much thanks to my two betas, both of whom have given me priceless advice about grammar, punctuation and for being there to bounce ideas with, especially for these final chapters. Also special thanks to you, regular readers & reviewers. Please do tell me how you feel about chapters 29 & 30.

* * *

**Chapter 28**

Morrigan faces the fire as I pause in the doorway, my hand still on my sword hilt. "Sneaking in here was not a good idea," I warn her.

She doesn't turn around, her semi-clad body highlighted by the flickering light. "I snuck past the guards, but I have announced myself to you. I wish for us to speak." As she turns from the fire, I feel the air beside me shift, and I realise that we're not alone.

"Fine, I'll listen. But be quick, I have things I'd rather be doing tonight." I watch the shadows flicker as the assassin skirts around the edge of the room towards the witch.

**[Thess? What is this?]** Alistair asks and I feel him focusing on my thoughts.

**[I don't know. But I don't trust her,]** I reply, feeling his agreement.

"I might be able to help with that. I have a plan you see. The loop in your hole." Morrigan looks at me for the first time, her expression hidden by the fire light. "I know what happens when the Archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you that this does not need to be."

**[Wait, how can Morrigan save us?]** I feel his hopes rising as he listens to her. He's excused himself from his meeting with Teagan and it's almost as if he's in the room with us.

I close my eyes, rubbing the space between them. And now Zevran knows that we're going to die tomorrow, great. "And how do you know about this?" I ask wearily.

"I know a great many things. How I know is not quite as important as what I am offering you, however. I offer a way out. A way out for all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice."

"Nothing comes without a price." I fold my arms, leaning against the doorframe to pretend a nonchalance I do not have.

**[It might be a price worth paying. What if it saves your life?]** Alistair asks.

"Perhaps. But that price need not be so unbearable. What I propose is this: convince Alistair to lay with me tonight. And from this ritual a child shall be conceived within me. This child will bear the taint, and when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb the essence and not perish. The Archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process."

I can feel Alistair thinking this through, his fear for me almost as strong as his disgust of Morrigan. What I'm doing is trying to figure out why she's offering this. "So the child becomes a darkspawn?"

She scoffs and shakes her head. "Not at all. It will become something different: a child born with the soul of an Old God. After this is done, you allow me to walk away... and you do not follow. The child will be mine to raise as I wish." She steps towards me and I watch as the shadows shift behind her.

**[We said 'no' to something similar to this for our Fade Sharing problem. And this has far worse strings attached.] **I feel him murmur his agreement, but he's still worrying about me.

Bitter amusement forces a smile on my face. "You've known the whole time you've been with us, haven't you? Haven't you!"

She nods, her yellow eyes narrowing. "Yes, 'tis the real reason I joined you."

"Is that why you've been so cruel to Alistair? Because you knew you'd have to perform this _blood magic_ ritual with him? A man you despise?" It makes so much sense now.

**[I hate her more than she's ever hated me,]** he snarls.

"Some might call it blood magic; that is but a name." She shrugs off the question so quickly I know she's covering up the truth. "But 'tis why I cannot bear to speak to him, yes. He is a simpering fool. I cannot fathom how you can stand to have him touch you."

I close my eyes and frown. I can hear Alistair in my head, his fury at her words, and his hatred of her deceit. It's his words that come out of my mouth, his refusal to her offer.

"No. I won't agree to this," he says.

"Do not let your foolish pride condemn you!" She steps closer again, her hands held out. Once more the shadows follow her movements.

"Condemn me? Yet, you'd have me condemn _him_ to a fate far worse than death, being polluted by you." I sneer at her.

Her yellow eyes flare at me in disgust. "_Me_ polluting him? He is the one who bears the darkspawn taint."

"I don't mean the sex would pollute him, as much as we'd both hate it. Worse would be me asking him to be false to who he is. He detests blood magic of course, but Alistair? Conceiving a child with you only to have it taken away? Never going to happen."

**[Maker only knows what she'd do with it.]**

"You are a fool. I do not know why I even offer you this help." She throws her hands up in the air, and I see Zevran for a moment as he readies himself, waiting to see if Morrigan will use her magic on me. When she lowers her hands, he slips back into the gloom once more.

**[I **_**know**_** why she wants it,] ** I tell him and he feels my fury, cold and unrelenting.

I scorn her lies. "Help? The only reason you offer this is to suit your own purpose. I know what your mother's grimoire said about her immortality." She starts, her face creasing into a frown. "I'm assuming you wish to grow a new body for yourself, one containing the spirit of an Old God?"

**[Maker's Breath, you're right. That evil bitch.]**

She glares at me for a moment, before spitting out at me. "Die then, if you feel it is worthwhile. Or be overshadowed, I care not."

"I should have killed you long ago," I feel Alistair say through me.

The shadows shift as Zevran leaps forward, his poisoned daggers sinking into Morrigan. With a screech, she transforms into a wolf, twisting down and away from his blades. He rolls towards her but she slips past my legs and is out of the door in seconds. Zevran follows her to the doorway, but she's changed form again and is out of sight.

**[Are you okay? Maker, I want to come up right now, but the armies are waiting. Wynne's here and Teagan needs one final thing agreed for tomorrow...]**

**[I'm fine my love now that she's gone. Hurry back.]** I think this last as Zevran turns to me, his expression black and shut down my emotions before Alistair worries more.

"What poison is that?" I point to the slick black oil coating his blades.

Zevran closes the door and walks back towards the fireplace, wiping Morrigan's blood clean. "Something that would kill an ordinary person. The witch? I do not know."

I join Zevran in front of the fire and sink into a soft chair. My limbs are trembling with adrenaline and the urge to chase the bitch is strong, but I know it's worthless.

"So, it seems it was a good thing I saw her breaking into your bedroom, no?" Zevran paces in front of the fire, not looking at me. "But explain to me this, for I still do not understand. Why does that foolish lover of yours prefer for you to die rather than sleep with the witch? One night, and you have the rest of your lives?"

"What would you have me do? Betray what I love for a _possible_ chance not to die? Do you trust that she isn't just lying to us anyway?" I walk over to him and try to take his hand, but he twists away with a frown.

"You are a very frustrating woman to deal with, do you know that?" He backs away from me, still not looking at me. "It is just a physical thing, he would still love you. You should have accepted her offer."

"I know you have loved, Zev. Think of what you'd do in this situation, how you'd feel," I say.

"It's precisely because I do... care that I'm telling you I would have done it. I would do _anything_ you needed, anything," he glares. He's rolling something between his fingers, I see the glitter of gold, but he's moving it so fast I can't see what it is.

"You know Alistair - could you see him knowingly fathering a child and abandoning it? I know you would never do that either," I see a flicker of a response in his eyes but he's still furious. "So you see - it's not about the sex part of it, really. Maker, if it had been simply about _sex_, I would have distracted myself with you while he was with her," I try to joke, smiling at him.

The glare he shoots me shows that he's not amused and he closes the distance between us, one hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Believe me, my dear. You mean a lot…what you have done means a lot to me. There would have been nothing _simple_ between us."

There is danger in his eyes, in how closely he's standing and I nod. "I know that. For me, too. And that's why I must ask you to leave before Alistair arrives. I think…I believe that it's our last night together. I want to spend it with the man I love."

"As you request." His fingers stroke my cheek one more time, before he drops his eyes and steps backwards. I see him close his other hand into a fist, hiding the golden object from my sight. "But if you ever need... anything, I am yours."

"Well," I pause and think about tomorrow, think about my dreams of Alistair lying dead at the Archdemon's feet. "There is _one_ thing I need."

I describe what I want, talking over his protests until I cruelly force him to agree by saying that he had promised me anything. With a nod of agreement and the whisper of leather and spices, he's gone.

I sink back into the chair and wait, shivering, as Alistair makes his way through the castle to me.

#

Alistair is barely inside the bedroom before he's pushed me hard against the wall, kissing me passionately. There is such beauty in his masculine lines, the shimmering bronze of his hair by the firelight. I cup his face, memorising the lines of his jaw, the feel of his stubble.

**[You,]** is his only thought. **[Just you.]**

**[Then you have me,]** I assure him.

Alistair stops kissing me, noticing for the first time that I'm bathed and only dressed in a simple shift. **[You're glowing.]** His eyes drink me in, his smile warming me. But there's desperation in our minds, a feeling of last kisses, final touches.

I pull his face close again, tasting the sweet honey of his lips, my fingers skimming along his jaw line to feel the rough scratch of his stubble. With a groan, he is kissing me again, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling my body closer to his.

I undo the laces on his trousers, releasing him into my hand, feeling his breathing speed up, his eyes fluttering shut as I squeeze and caress him. No longer warriors or Wardens, we are possessed only with desire. We feel each others bodies, each others touch.

**[Now,]** I demand, or maybe he orders me. It's all the same.

I can feel his calloused fingers dig into my hips as he lifts me off the floor and enters me in one movement, making us both cry out. There are hands touching everywhere, bodies firm and slick against each other. The mixture of feelings; having him inside me, of me wrapped around him are dizzying. He forces me hard against the wall, knowing that it won't take long; we're so in synch, so close, just the feel of each other is enough.

My nails dig into his back, marking his flesh, feeling him shiver inside me. We experience the familiar sensation pooling in our stomachs signalling our release. Maker, it's too soon, too fast, but we feel so good together. All the heat and strength of our passion, the way he rocks against me, of how I press back against him bringing us closer. Bare moments later and we're tumbling over the edge together, screaming out names against swollen lips, the combined scents of sex and sweat filling the room.

#

The Archdemon is there again, talking to me, mocking me, its huge form pacing across the tiles. There are darkspawn behind it, following it as it stalks towards me, yellow eyes gleaming with an insane intelligence. I can't see Alistair but I know it has him, it's taken him. I've lost.

_'Soon,' _it thinks_ 'Now.'_

#

Eamon stands in front of the fire, his years sitting heavily on his face as his younger brother strategizes with the army generals at the far end of the hall. As Alistair and I walk towards him, he turns to us with a grimace.

"And so Loghain's daughter sits on the throne, the Theirin bloodline is ended." He folds his arms, his disapproval radiating.

"My father taught me that a man should be judged by what he has done, not by who he is. The greatest of Kings could be a tyrant while the poorest of the elves could be a saint." I see his brows pull together with a frown. "Look at our beloved Andraste, a mere slave risen to topple the mighty Tevinter Empire itself."

"I…I'm not sure I agree with his philosophy, and I suppose you did what you did for your own reasons, Warden. But…I wish it could have turned out differently." He focuses on Alistair. "Is this what _you_ wanted? What about your duty to Ferelden?"

I seethe inside as I feel Alistair reduced to a boy again, standing before the man sending him away to the Chantry. I feel my fury flow into him and he straightens up, his chin held high.

"I might have been born a Theirin, but I was chosen to be a Grey Warden. My duty is first and foremost is to them. There is a Blight going on that I can help defeat to save Ferelden. Why should I cause more civil strife, just for personal power that I don't even want? I have great faith in Teagan and Queen Anora."

At Teagan's name, Eamon flicks his glance towards his younger brother and he sags slightly. "But my son, he has to join the Circle. And Teagan will be Prince Consort. Who will take over Redcliffe should I pass?"

Alistair's eyes widen. **[I hadn't even thought of this. Poor Eamon, his son gone and now we've taken his brother from him.]**

**[Duty is a heavy price to pay. For all of us.] **I think of my dream.

"I wish I knew, Ser. I'm sure your brother will help you with that." I look towards Teagan as the leaders of our armies exit the castle. "Time for us to mobilise, Teagan?"

"Yes, my lady. The men are ready to march, as soon as you are ready." Teagan is dressed in full armour, a shield of Redcliffe on his back.

"My companions are also ready; let us be off to Denerim." And with that, our army is on the move towards the capital.

It's a tough march, and I see families crying as soldiers leave them behind. Men who look less armed than a militia follow the Redcliffe knights, as dwarves, elves and mages all move towards Denerim.

The city itself glows orange on the horizon, and we can see even from a distance that it has been overwhelmed. As we halt on the hill above the city, Anora and Teagan ride to meet us.

"Alistair, as senior Grey Warden, will you...?" Teagan asks.

Alistair looks to me and I smile. **[Go on, love. For the Wardens.]**

And Alistair stands in front of the hundreds of soldiers that we have gathered, all of them listening to him intently as he rouses them to battle, with cries of avenging Cailan and honouring the Grey Wardens.

And I see standing before me, before his army, the great man that Alistair has become: a fine leader, not of Ferelden, but of the Grey Wardens, an infinitely more suitable role. As his rousing speech ends, a battle cry spurs the men down the hill towards the awaiting horde.

The darkspawn have broken through into the city, the walls are crumbled and fires rages across the wooden buildings.

**[I hope most of the people were able to flee on ships before the horde got here,]** Alistair thinks as we race down the hill.

**[There's a distinct lack of bodies and blood, so you might be right.]**

The fighting is brutal and swift. I see men transformed into corpses all around me as we fight to enter the city. I feel responsible for every death, every soldier I convinced to fight, every elf torn from their peaceful forest. The Archdemon is soaring overheard and I can hear it communicating with the horde, its voice whispering in my head. It can feel that we're here and it is not afraid.

And now that we're close to it, Alistair and I almost merge into one. Our minds mesh so deeply, we find ourselves trapped within each other. Attacking and defending, moving through the monsters together as one fighting force.

Even with the men we've gathered, I can see how quickly we're being overrun - there are thousands more darkspawn pouring into the battle and we have no further reinforcements. Still, against those odds, the men somehow manage to take and hold Denerim's main gates, giving us a choke point to hold back the invading darkspawn.

Our companions gather inside the gates as Riordan kills one final hurlock. "We're doing better than I hoped," he pants.

"That will change quickly," Wynne warns.

"Aye, bloody nug-humpers. We're outnumbered three to one!" Oghren shakes his sword, and his armour is dripping with tainted blood.

"The army will not last long; we need to reach the Archdemon," Alistair says.

"We can't split up too much, it's vital we keep this area held," I say, pointing at the darkspawn massing outside the gates.

"I agree," Riordan looks to me. "I suggest taking Alistair and no more than two others with you and make for a high point, the top of Fort Drakon might work. I will try and clear a path to the Archdemon and meet you there."

I look across at Wynne and Zevran who both acknowledge me with a nod. "Oghren, will you lead the defence of the gate?"

"Fine!" He swings a huge mouthful of ale from a flask, his eyes watering. "Let's just move onto the blasted main event, already!"

"May the Maker watch over you." Riordan bows to us.

"May he watch over us all." I cross my arms over my chest and lower my head.

As the armies form up and my companions head over to the gate, I pull my Mabari Loki to me and kiss his head. "Stay here with Oghren and be good, you hear?" He barks happily at me, wagging his stumpy tail.

As I straighten, Leliana is before me, her arms crossed. "So this is it, the end. And I'm not with you."

"It's for the best, it's safer here." I smile at the little bard and wipe some of the darkspawn blood off her face. Alistair is talking to Wynne, giving me a tight smile over her shoulder as he whispers to her. I can't hear his mind, the hum of the darkspawn is loud and the Archdemon is roaring at us.

"I respect your decision, but I would have gladly stood by your side, even to the death. You are a true friend, Thessaly, and I... I will be extremely cross if you... don't return." She pulls me into a tight hug, sighing hard.

"Don't worry Leli, I'll be back to tease you about Zevran. I wouldn't miss it," I giggle, poking her in the ribs.

"Oh, you can tease all you want; I've seen him ogling you. There's only one woman in his sights." She pats my shoulder and releases me, a faint smile on her face.

As our other companions move towards the gate, Zevran helps Wynne prepare for the final battle, putting numerous lyrium and health potions into a backpack. I turn back to look for Alistair, who is currently patting Oghren's shoulder. ** [Ready?]**

**[Oghren is fine, he thinks they can hold the gate for a while, but we need to move fast.]** He walks to my side and draws his sword and shield. **[Let's go.]**

We fight our way through Denerim, deploying men where we can to protect each district. We move deeper into the city, clearing the darkspawn that are destroying the town, but we find very few survivors. Side by side, the darkspawn have no chance against us.

In the alienage, Shianni has evacuated most of the elves, but she's trapped by a rampaging ogre. Zevran spirits her away and we clear the bridge towards the palace district.

Above us, I hear a scream in my head and the Archdemon flies past, blue flames spewing from its mouth. It can see us below and it swoops down.

**[Riordan,]** I hear Alistair at the same time as I see the Grey Warden leap onto the beasts back. There is a moment of hope as he rips apart one of its wings forcing it to dive towards the fort, but Riordan looses his grip and in a flash, he's gone.

The Archdemon roars in triumph and I hear it calling out to us, mocking us, telling us that we will all die.

I can't move. I feel sick. I look at Alistair's pale face and I know in my heart that he will never let me take the last blow. He's a condemned man, walking to his doom.

"So, it comes to this," Zevran says at my side. His face is crumpled, the tattoos on his cheek twisted out of shape.

I can't look away from Alistair; I can feel him accepting his fate, his resignation settling over both of us. My body trembles, skin rippling with gooseflesh.

**[We're both Grey Wardens, it could be either of us,]** I tell him, but he doesn't answer me, watching the Archdemon as it lands on the Fort. He heads across the bridge without a word and I trot to catch him up.

We've dropped into a rhythm now, Alistair charging into groups while I pick off stragglers. Alistair and I fight so well together, our minds are so meshed now that Zevran hardly has to fight at all. He protects Wynne from any attacks from the rear, guarding her as she throws constant healing spells as us as we forge ahead.

Inside the Fort, we're surprised to find it cleared, with corpses scattered throughout the halls. Sandal, the lyrium-addled dwarf from our camp, smiles sweetly at us and doesn't seem to need our help.

We fight through the last few rooms before we reach the top floor. Alistair and I can feel the Archdemon waiting for us just beyond the doors. I look into his amber eyes, feeling his heart beating in time with my own. We are the last two Grey Warden's in Ferelden, and one of us must die today.

Alistair takes a huge breath, bracing himself before roaring out his war cry as he charges towards the dragon. It senses us, spinning more swiftly than I expect from a beast that size. The yellow eyes gleam and I hear it laugh softly in my head. Alistair looks so small in front of it, his immense armour no protection at all from those raking claws, the rows of razor teeth.

This is it. It is the moment for us to end this. I need a plan, I need to think but the time has run out for both of us. I need to ask for help from one of the two friends that I trust the most to follow me to the end: an assassin originally sent to kill me or an abomination who adores a templar.

Zevran appeals to the pragmatist in me. Raised as a slave, abused and tortured as a boy, he hides his pain behind a quick wit and a sharp blade. _He_ would never let the Archdemon take Alistair, he would think of a way to keep him alive, whatever the consequences.

Wynne, however, is almost the opposite of Zevran. A woman trapped in the Circle her whole life, possessed by a spirit from the Fade - an abomination - and her son taken from her at birth, yet she still trusts others, she still survives on hope. She would probably laugh at my nightmares, telling me that I'm wasting my time by fearing death and that we should be happy with the life that we have had together.

**AND, IN KEEPING WITH THE GAME, YOU HAVE A CHOICE:**

**CHAPTER 29 IF YOU ASK ZEVRAN FOR HELP or CHAPTER 30 IF IT'S WYNNE YOU TURN TO.**


	29. Chapter 29

Please note the either/or choice.

**CHAPTER 29 IF YOU ASK ZEVRAN FOR HELP or CHAPTER 30 IF IT'S WYNNE YOU TURN TO.**

* * *

**Chapter 29 - ****Zevran:**

Alistair sprints off towards the huge dragon without a backwards glance. I can feel the determination burning bright inside him to keep me away from it, to keep me alive. Wynne follows Alistair, throwing healing spells at him as he batters his way through the swarming darkspawn. The Circle's mages look confused and scared, but their magical damage causes the Archdemon to roar with pain.

"Zevran," I call to the assassin as I lurk in the half-open doorway. My hands itch to draw my sword as Alistair smashes his shield towards the dragon. I can feel my own breathing speed up to match Alistair's as he fights. My own limbs rush with adrenaline, desperate to be at his side.

Zevran makes his way to me, an angry scowl on his face. "I don't like this. I know what you want it for."

"You said I could ask you for anything." I hold out a hand, fingers trembling.

"Yes of course, but I didn't mean _this_," he pulls out a small vial of milky potion from beneath his armour and drops it into my hand.

"I know, but I rely on you... I trust you, to help me save him." I look at the liquid, my backup plan if Riordan fell. "So, just apply it and...?"

"And it is done," Zevran's eyes are dark and there's a sheen to them that's new. Gold glitters in one ear, an earring I've never noticed before.

I shiver as Alistair leaps into the air. I'm not even looking at him but my body twitches with the need to follow his movements, fighting side by side. I can feel our minds slowly meshing, the proximity of the Archdemon breaking down the walls between our minds.

"Thank you my friend," I throw an arm around his shoulder and drag him towards me in a clumsy hug. I hear him sigh against my ear and his arms wrap around me. He's shorter than me, but he shapes himself around my body like a silk stocking along a bare thigh.

"Since you are signing my death warrant when your lover finds out my part in this, may I ask for a boon from you? One tiny thing in exchange?" he whispers.

As I look into his eyes, I know what he wants without asking. Alistair is close by, but his attention is locked onto the Archdemon, focussed on taking as much damage as he can. Still, I can't let him hear my plan; I need to fill my mind with something else. I nod my head once, a tiny acknowledgement that is enough for the assassin.

He pulls me tightly into his arms, his hair gliding across my cheeks as his eyes glitter with unspoken promises. He wraps his arms around my back, running his hands across my armour as he touches his lips against my own. He kisses me with a burning passion I don't expect, his experience far over shadowing mine as he possesses me. Soft lips that taste of cloves and honey press against me, his tongue teasing. My fingers tangle in his hair, so soft and fine, corn-silk in the sunshine. I find my body responding to the lips that are moving over my own, so I push against his chest, pulling back. I can't do this, not with him, not now.

"Stop," I murmur against his lips. "Please, I need go to help him."

Zevran swears under his breath and loosens his arms, letting me go. I press my lips to his forehead once more. "Thank you, my friend. I'll always love you for helping me with this."

Zevran watches as I take the milky potion before pushing my hands aside to rub it on my lips gently. I raise an eyebrow and he nods. I see pain in his eyes, a pain I've not seen since we talked about Rinna, and I wonder how different things could have been.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. It's done, my choice is made. I draw my sword and run across the rooftop to where Alistair is screaming at the Archdemon as he slashes at it. Zevran is behind me, I can see flashes of his blades and leather as he kills the darkspawn trying to flank us.

I move to Alistair, our mental connection even stronger now that we're facing the beast. Alistair tries to understand why I'm hiding something from him, but I keep the feel of the Antivan's lips at the forefront of my mind as my only defence. Alistair knows why I'm doing it, to keep him out of my head, but his pain makes it harder.

We fight as one, our bodies moving with a dangerous symmetry as we rip apart this tainted God. Finally, bloodied and bruised, the beast roars in defiance at us, barely able to stand, its head hanging near to the ground.

Alistair turns to me, lowering his sword **[There's no need for you to die. This is my duty, I should be the one to kill it.]**

**[Why would you be the one to sacrifice yourself Alistair? We're both Grey Wardens...]** I argue, though I know he will never listen.

**[You know how I feel about you. I won't let you die, not if I can do something about it,]** he cups my cheek, his gloved hand cold against my skin.

**[This is crazy.] **I keep my thoughts hidden from him and it's so hard.

**[Sanest thing I've ever done,]** his lips twist into his crooked smile as he gathers me into his arms. This it the place I've called home since Ostagar, within his embrace, his amber eyes shining down on me. I stretch up to kiss him, breathing softly against his mouth as his lips touch my own, soft and perfect, the only lips I ever wanted to feel.

I wait a moment before I feel his body slump and catch his weight in my arms, his eyes drifting closed. I stroke his cheek with the back of my hand, memorising the perfection I see.

**[Thess... wha....]** his thoughts are clumsy, confused. I lower him to the floor as gently as I can, and force myself to move away. I pull my sword out of a darkspawn corpse and straighten up, taking in one last, huge breath to steady my nerves.

**[It's an Antivan drug to paralyze the victim. I'm sorry my love. I knew that you would never give me a choice, so I had to take it from you.] **And I'm running towards the dragon, my sword held high. My blade slides deep into the monster's throat, blood and bile spewing all over me as it thrashes around in agony. Its massive head drops to the stone by my feet, its yellow eyes dull, the voice in my head silent.

I risk one last look at Alistair, crumpled on the ground, his face twisted in pain and shock. Wynne is supporting his head as the assassin stands and watches. I smile at them, my friends, my love, before turning back to the dying God at my feet. I've never been more scared in my life and it's only by seeing his face that I can go through with this at all.

**[Thank you Alistair. For saving me, from not letting revenge eat me alive, for being so perfectly **_**you**_**. I have loved every second I've been with you. I will love you for all time.]**

"For the Grey Wardens!" I yell, plunging my sword deep into the skull of the Archdemon. The light, the heat, blinds me as it pulses out through my body, breaking open the sky to pour into the heavens.

I can hear Alistair in my head, cursing his inability to move, screaming my name over and over, feeling the power of the God pouring through his mind, our minds.

It seems never ending, the radiance, the power, the pain, when I hear a final scream of rage then it all fades to black, the pain is gone and my body slides bonelessly to the floor.

#

Then I'm here, now, in the Fade, in our place. There's no background hum of darkspawn, no raging demon flying above me. Somehow, two untrained Wardens have managed to do the impossible. The Blight is over before it had barely begun. We've won.

It's different here now; there is no colour in the sky, just an endless blackness soaring above me. There's grey ash in the air, floating down like snow, drifting over everything, settling on my skin. The ground itself feels soft, mist-like, if I jump, I might sink right through it.

But I can't jump, I can barely move, I'm so tired. My limbs are like weights, pulling me down as I stand, swaying, empty inside.

Our bed is still there, under a layer of ash and I drag myself towards it. Each movement of my leg takes a year, six months pass as I bend my knee. After millennia, I collapse on the bed, lying back to stare up into the darkness. Eternity is cold and lonely.

It feels as if many empires have risen and fallen before I see a faint blush spreading across the sky and a jittery energy rushes through my muscles. The ash stops falling and turns to glittering white stars in the sky. I turn my head to see his amber eyes and a wide smile.

I clear my throat, it's been so long since I've spoken that I'm not sure how I'll sound, if I can speak at all. "My love, I knew you'd come." I sound normal to my ears and I can see that Alistair notices nothing. I smile back at him, my skin warming as he pulls me against his chest. I hear his heartbeat, feel his chest rising and falling as he breathes and I know that even all of this bleakness has been worth it to keep him alive.

Warm tears soak my hair and I can hear him stifling sobs as he kisses my face over and over. "Oh my love, it's so good to see you. I... I've just taken your body back to the palace. Zevran's disappeared, which is good because I might have killed him for his part in this. Sten got injured, Wynne's worried he might lose an eye and... Oh, and it's horrible, horrible without you. I don't know how I've managed today, but you're here now, you're here," Alistair speaks so quickly, I'm so unused to sound, that it washes over me as a glorious musical noise.

I run my hands along his face, neck, chest, feeling warm skin, the vibrations as he speaks, all of it so strange and new and familiar. My body starts to respond and I feel almost alive again, almost human.

"I miss you too, Alistair," I kiss his lips softly, smiling as he continues to babble. I'm enjoying just being with him, feeling his life warming my empty spirit. I can smell his scent now, the soap tickling my nose. Then I hear something that gives me pause.

"It's only been a day? Really?" I ask.

He must see the surprise in my eyes, because his brows draw together. "Just about a day yes. We came down from the Fort, carried... you to the Palace. I don't know, I lost a bit of time then, I guess, but Teagan took me to one side and gave me a room to sleep. And here I am," he kisses me again, honey and silk and chocolate all in one. I feel his body press against me, the muscles coiled under his skin and I marvel at him. Hard warmth, strong limbs and a raging desire. So vital and alive, it is enough for the both of us.

But so quickly and it's over. He awakes in reality and his body grows ever fainter before disappearing. The colour drains out of the sky and the stars fall from the heavens, once again becoming unending grey rain. I lie back on the bed, my limbs slowly turning to cold lead as I close my eyes and ponder another eternity waiting for him to sleep once more.


	30. Chapter 30

Please note the either/or choice.

**CHAPTER 29 IF YOU ASK ZEVRAN FOR HELP or CHAPTER 30 IF IT'S WYNNE YOU TURN TO.**

**Chapter 30 –** **Wynne:**

Alistair sprints off towards the huge dragon without a backwards glance. I can feel his determination burning bright inside him to keep me away from it, to keep me alive. Zevran follows Alistair, picking off the darkspawn as they batter their way through the swarm. The Circle's mages look confused and scared, but their magical damage causes the Archdemon to roar with pain.

"Wynne!" I call to the mage before she follows them. She turns to me, her staff held high, listening as she summons a Lifeward over them.

"You can paralyze, can't you? That spell.... can you cast it on Alistair now?" I ask.

"I can, but I won't," she turns back to the fight, her mouth pursed.

"What? Why in the Maker's name not! You love him like your own son, I know you do. Help me save him." I restrain my urge to fight as I want to smash her in the face for not helping. "Please."

I see Alistair challenge the Archdemon while Zevran watches his back and I want to help, but this, this is more important. My body disagrees though, pulling against my will to join Alistair. Our bond is strengthening, the humming of the taint setting my body ablaze.

"My dear, it was you who taught me, taught all of us, that Alistair needs to be able to make his own decisions. You fought for that right, for him to choose his destiny, and you want _me_ to take it away now?"

"Yes, yes I do. I don't care about that now; I just don't want him to die. Help me!" I grab on to her robe and shake her hard, her head snapping back. She shifts her staff towards me and blasts a low shot of electricity at me, knocking me backwards.

"He asked you to help him," I snarl at her, my body twitching as the spell wears off slowly.

"We may have spoken, yes, he doesn't want you to die. There has to be another way," she follows the two men, leaving me lying on the cold stone.

I drag myself to my feet, whirling into battle beside Alistair, letting our mental connection take over to become his other half. But my mind can't stop, another way, there has to be another way.

As I fight the beast, it seems even larger than the one in my Fade, its buzzing voice louder, angrier as we slice into the soft flesh of its underbelly. The yellow eye gleams at me as it swings its head to snap at us. I feel its smug satisfaction even as we're winning. The taint sings in my head, the dragon is a symphony by itself.

Why do we share our Fade, if it is just to die alone? Why do Grey Wardens only gain this power during a Blight? What do we need to do?

This feels wrong, as I dance alongside Alistair, my bones scream at me that this is a mistake. Every cut, every splash of blood and my mind screams that Wynne is right, there is another way. But what hope is there? The monster falls, its head held low, the life slowly draining out of it.

I pull on his arm, trying to hold him back, to keep him with me, but Alistair draws his sword and faces his death.

"I won't let you do this!" I scream.

And he looks at me with sadness in his eyes and I feel his determination flooding through me. "It's not like I'm giving you a choice."

_"Now."_ The Archdemon thinks, and I hear how unafraid it is. How different it sounds from my Fade Archdemon as it taunts me with Alistair's corpse.

And that's it. Light explodes behind my eyes like an alchemical fire and I understand. The Fade Sharing. Our shared mind. That's what it _feared_. Not us here, but _this_. This is what we are meant to do.

I reach into my backpack and pull out an armful of lyrium vials as Alistair holds his sword high. The thick blue liquid sloshes against the glass and I pray to the Maker that Wynne will forgive me as I throw them at her, covering her body in the bright blue liquid as Alistair starts to run towards the beast.

"The Fade, send me into the Fade _now_!" I scream as she turns a shocked face to me, her body shaking with the sudden influx of power. Alistair moves closer to the Archdemon, raising his sword.

Her hands spin above her head, her eyes glowing a dull blue as the lyrium courses through her veins. I feel my body growing weak and I'm falling...

I'm in the Fade now. I'm here in my Fade. Alone with the Archdemon glowering at me. Here too, it's beaten, cowed, head down, waiting for the final strike. I feel Alistair and I become one, our minds finally breaking down all barriers as we form one being, existing both in reality and in the Fade simultaneously.

...falling backwards into the Fade as Alistair reaches the beast, sliding his sword deep into the monsters throat...

**[Yes] **we think** [**_**This**_** is how we kill it.]**

This is _my_ Fade, so I'm in full armour with my sword in my hand as I charge towards the beast, slicing through its throat, cutting deep, feeling the blood spew over me.

...a mere blink of an eye and I'm still falling, my body limp as I watch the beast collapse, its head dropping to the stone at Alistair's feet...

And in the Fade, it's the same as reality, our bodies moving as one across realms as we plunge our weapons deep into the skull of the dragon. The light, the heat, its blinding us, forcing us to our knees as the Archdemon's tainted soul tries to escape, but it's trapped between reality and the Fade, pinned between us as our bodies pulse with its power.

...my body is still falling, so close to the ground as I see our companions watch in awe as the light rips the sky apart...

And we feel it die, its soul ripped apart between both of us. The power of an Old God pours through us, out of us, marking us and twisting us forever.

As the last vestige of it dies away, I slump to the floor, slammed back into my body as it hits the ground on the roof of Fort Drakon.

We can't move, our bodies limp and fragile, torn apart by the waves of energy. But we're both here, both alive, both melded together into one. And in our minds, we think to each other, never sure whose thought is whose, who is feeling what.

We see Zevran crouch beside us, tears running unchecked down his cheeks, his beautiful tattoo marred by the expression on his face. We feel his hands as he pulls us to him, stroking our hair. His soft fingers trace our face as he whispers in a strange and beautiful language. We both enjoy the soft kisses on our head, the gentle hands that stroke our wounded limbs. We smell his scent; spices and danger and adventure. We both love and trust this assassin, he is our true friend and we can acknowledge it now.

We see Wynne, pushing away our shield to gather us up, a soft healing mist enveloping us as she calls us her son over and over as she rocks back and forth. The lyrium coating her burns us where it touches our bare flesh. The warm blue rain fills our bodies while our love for our surrogate mother fills our hearts. We wonder idly for a moment if the spell will affect our minds, but we are still one as the warmth fades away.

Then we force our bodies to move, four arms, four legs and one brain. We crawl to each other to collapse into our arms, our breath mingling, our bodies shuddering and gasping as the remains of a God seep out of us.

We stand, helping each other up, moving together away from the dragon's corpse towards the jubilant sound of a cheering army below.

**[You figured it out.]**

**[Yes.]**

**[And now it's over.]**

**[The Blight is over.]**

**[We're still like this?]**

**[Yes.]**

**[Will we always be like this?**

**[I don't know. Maybe?]**

**[Can we... can we live like this?]**

**[I don't know.]**

**[This is what drove the others insane.]**

**[Maybe.]**

**[Can we live like this?]**

**[I don't know.]**

**[Can... can we try?]**

**[Yes, my love, of course we can try.] **

The dragon is slain, the Blight is over and the Grey Warden's have won. Now we need to learn how to live.


End file.
